


Saltwater Rising

by HamburgerHotline



Category: Dungeons & Dragons (Roleplaying Game), Dungeons & Dragons - All Media Types
Genre: Adventure, Based On a D&D Game, D&D, Fantasy, Gen, Ghosts of Saltmarsh, Homebrew World, Lovecraft Inspired, Lovecraftian, Major Original Character(s), Medieval, Mystery, OC's - Freeform, OCs - Freeform, Original Character(s), Original Character-centric, Original Characters - Freeform, Original Fiction, Original Player Characters, Pirates, dnd, pirate
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-06
Updated: 2019-06-10
Packaged: 2020-04-11 15:50:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 23,918
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19112857
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HamburgerHotline/pseuds/HamburgerHotline
Summary: A series of mysterious murders shakes the downtrodden folk of a decaying port. Even after the so-called 'Lantern Ghost Murderer' is caught and executed, some in the city believe that the true killer is still out there. It's left to a womanizing rogue, a snarky former marine, and a mute Myconid to follow the clues that the local militia ignores - and possibly uncover something truly dangerous.





	1. A Dying Port

**Author's Note:**

> This story begins as my Party playing the sixth chapter of "Ghosts of Saltmarsh", although it DOES radically deviate for a bit in the middle. Basically, if you play D&D and you're going to be playing GoS, don't read this.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After a massive storm detours their ship, three radically different individuals find themselves in the downtrodden port of the Styes, and learn that there has been strange activity going on. Each for their own reasons, they decide to investigate - a decision that shall intertwine their destinies, whether they know it or not.

It was before sunrise when the first wave hit, rocking the  _ Moradin’s Glory  _ back and forth and causing one of its passengers to fall out of the makeshift bed he was sleeping in. This was Jaran Varden - playwright, thief, and, now adventurer.

Jaran got this feet, looking around him. He was in the  _ Glory _ ’s cargo hold - he had fallen asleep after one his favourite activities: bedding a young elven woman, who, he observed, still lay fast asleep in the collection of barrels, crates, and blankets the two had been using as a bed.

By examination, the Elven woman couldn’t even be 75, and a greater man than Jaran might take issue with sleeping with a person who could be hardly be considered a young adult. However, Jaran justified his escapade, he didn’t spend all those years in the Bellmoral Thieves’ Guild to preach to himself about morality and the law.

Luckily for his bedmate, the storm hadn’t woken her. As for the rogue, however, the violent rocking of the ship and sound of thundering rain reverberating through the below decks didn’t lend well to rest, and so he did the next best thing: He located his clothes, and all except the vest he usually wore as an outer layer, dressed before heading up the ladder to the upper deck.

The situation proved worse than Jaran had expected. Waves that could be no smaller than three stories battered the sides of the  _ Glory _ ,  not only sending her careening from side to side, but also causing water to forcefully wash across the deck. All this illuminated only by flashes of lighting, each followed by roaring thunder in its wake. Truly, Jaran feared, he might have made a mistake taking this voyage.

There were only a few figures on the deck in these conditions, most being Dwarves. As the name suggested, the  _ Moradin’s Glory  _ was a Dwarven vessel - in fact, the known skill of Dwarven craftsmen was the only thing keeping Jaran from falling to his knees and praying to every oceanic deity he could think of. It also meant that the crew were no taller than five feet, making one person on the top deck stand out amongst the rest: A beautiful young woman about Jaran’s age, dressed in a worn, military-style jacket and carrying both a longsword and flintlock sidearm on a belt around her waist.

The bard vaguely recognized this woman as the passenger in the quarters next to his. They had had no interaction, as Jaran hadn’t spent much time in his room, but he could remember seeing her short brown hair and beautiful face and thinking to himself that, should his advances on the Elf be spurred, she’d be the next target of his infamous charm.

Jaran approached, and tried to start conversation with the topic that was, no doubt, on everyone’s mind: “Crazy weather we're having.”

“Ye reckon ‘tis bad?” The woman raised an eyebrow, “Ye ain’t seen anythin’.” Her voice was full of an accent Jaran recognized as belonging to the Kingdom of Keoland’s coastal regions - which, considering the  _ Glory _ ’s destination of Saltmarsh was located there, made sense.

“If thirty-foot waves threatening to sink this ship isn’t the worst the sea has to offer us, I think I might stay on land for a while.” Jaran responded, shrugging slightly.

“Aye, ye better.” The woman agreed, a strong smugness in her voice, “Nah everyone can handle Talos’ glory, can they, cap'n?” 

“Nae, Ah dinnae believe sae, lassie” The dwarven capitan chuckled, causing Jaran to grimace, and not just from the rain biting against his face. The rogue decided to steer the conversation towards the true purpose of his visit, to avoid further bite from the two obviously sea-trained individuals.

“How will this affect our arrival date in Saltmarsh?” Jaran inquired.

“We were jus' natterin' about that, actually.” The woman responded before the Dwarf could, “We be lootin' a detour.”

Although Jaran had trouble understanding this woman’s odd dialect, he could understand the word ‘detour’, and could assume ‘lootin’’ meant ‘taking’.

“Where to and how long?” He cut straight to the chase once more.

“Ain day, laddie.” The Dwarf finally got the chance to speak, “ain tae th' styes, th' closest city wi' a functionin' port”

‘Functioning’. That was an odd one. Jaran had never been to the Styes, but from what he’d heard of it, nothing there was ‘functioning’ there. Formerly called the Island of Pleasure, the Styes used to be a glorious resort for the rich and famous, until tragedy after tragedy struck - war, famine, plague, you name it. Over time, the Island of Pleasure had turned into a massive ghetto.

Still, he was in no place to complain. Dwarves knew their craftsmanship better than he, and so if this capitan felt his ship wouldn’t stand the storm, who was Jaran to question him? The bard sighed, putting his hands in his pockets to get them out of the rain and nipping cold that accompanied it. “How long until we arrive?”

 

The sun had just risen when the  _ Glory  _ docked in the Styes, and it was just how Jaran had pictured it: the decaying remains of a once noble port city. Under bent gables, the carcasses of its houses leaned against one another - languid, broken, and awaiting peace of collapse. Door frames sagged, dislocated from sod walls heavy with mildew, while splintering timbers supported rotten boardwalks like broken limbs, disappearing into the thick, rancid water of the harbour below.

Although most of the passengers elected to remain onboard, Jaran was not one to sit around and do nothing. There was a thieves’ guild in the Styes, which meant he could easily find himself amongst friends. But first came a more important bit of business: finding a place where he could get a stiff drink. 

As Jaran disembarked, he found himself alongside the woman from yesterday, dressed in different clothes except for her jacket, and carrying her sword and pistol once more. This wasn’t surprising - Jaran himself had also taken his armourmnets. Aside from hidden daggers and thieves’ tools, he had a rapier on one side of his toolbelt and a flintlock on the other. He had no will to become another casualty of the poverty and crime of the Styes, after all. 

“Happy t' be on land again, landlubber?” The woman taunted Jaran once the gangplanks had been walked and they stood firmly on the pier. To be honest, Jaran was quite happy, but he wasn’t about to admit that.

“Happy to be an ass to strangers, sea dog?” he shot back. This elicited a laugh from the woman.

“Landlubber's got sass!” She chuckled, “I'll give 'im that. Ye can call me Aldrava. Aldrava Hollace. Who might ye be?”

“Jaran...” Jaran extended a hand, “...Varden.”

There were three possible responses to the name ‘Jaran Varden’, based off if she had seen his hit play,  _ The Virtue of Embers _ , and her opinion of nobility. He was going to wager she hadn’t seen it. Although the  _ Virtue  _ was a sensation back in Bellmoral, it was mostly such for the nobility, and she didn’t seem the type to be a noble. So, he was expecting a casual response, not one of awe that she was meeting a man who had entertained the nobility, or one of disgust that he had associated with the pretentious highborns of society.

Much to his surprise, as Aldrava took his hand, an air of recognition came across her face, “Ye wrote th'  _ Virtue _ !” she exclaimed, “I knew ye looked familiar!”

Jaran smirked. Maybe he did have a chance with this woman after all. Even if he was currently a one-hit wonder, the fact that he could entertain the elite of Bellmoral had gotten him in bed with many a woman since it became a sensation.

“Guilty as charged.” Jaran smiled, taking Aldrava’s hand and guiding it to his lips, where he placed a soft kiss on her knuckle.

“Shove it up yer arse, Jaran.” Aldrava rolled her eyes, “Yer fancy play only proved that people 'ave low standards when it comes t' theater.”

“Ouch.” the playwright winced.

“But.” Aldrava cut in, “ye've earned yourself a seat next t' me at th' bar. I wants t' see if th' landlubber can hold his drink.”

Jaran sighed. ‘Mixed signals’ was an understatement. Just as Jaran was about to ask if Aldrava knew where a bar was located, a new figure emerged from the  _ Glory  _ and came down the gangplank, this one immediately catching the attention of both humans.

The figure’s resemblance to a large toadstool mushroom and obvious fungal nature suggested it was a Myconid, but Jaran hadn’t remembered seeing something so odd when sailing on the  _ Glory  _ for the past three days. Yet, clearly it had been aboard - as it was currently lumbering down the ramp to shore.

“I have no idea.” Jaran affirmed, “First I’ve seen it.”

“How long has he been aboard?” Aldrava raised an eyebrow, confirming to Jaran that his observational abilities hadn’t gone soft.

As the two prepared to discuss this strange occurance, though, the Myconid approached them, and two hands reached to the hilt of their respective swords, just in case. Luckily, the Myconid didn’t seem to mean trouble - instead, it simply stared at the two for a bit.

“Hello?” Jaran asked, cautiously. Still no response, at least not verbally. Instead, the mushroom pointed with one hand to Jaran, then Aldrava, then finally to itself, before its hand returned to once more hanging loosely at its side.

“I reckon he wants t' travel wit' us?” Aldrava seemed just as confused as Jaran at this creature’s behaviour. “Guess he doesn't want t' be alone in th' Styes. Can nah say I blame 'im, this bum town.”

Jaran had to agree. A creature as exotic as a Myconid was going to attract a  _ lot  _ of attention - and in a ‘bum town’ like the Styes, that was not a positive thing.

“Well, we’re just going to get a drink, yeah?” The playwright asked, “I guess he can come.”

“Wha''s yer name?” Aldrava asked the Myconid, “if ye're goin' t' drink wit' us, we needs somethin' t' call ye.”

Once again, the fungus remained mute, simply staring at Aldrava with the two glowing orbs that (one could assume) passed for its eyes.

“Right.” Aldrava nodded, “Strong 'n silent. I'll call ye 'Shroom' if that's okay wit' ye.”

‘Shroom’ didn’t seem to protest.

 

**‘** The Bat & Dog’ was the first tavern the group of three came across, located just three minutes of walking aimlessly through the Styes. It was a run down place, but seemingly less decrepit than the other buildings, and so its dive bar status was ignored and soon the two humans were seated at a booth, Shroom opting to remain standing to the side of the table.

Three copper pieces were paid by each of the Party, and in turn drinks were brought out to them. However, one thing was on both humans’ minds: Although it still hadn’t spoken, Shroom had ordered an Orcish ale by pointing at it on the menu, and paid for it, yet it didn’t seem to have a mouth with which to drink it. Did it have a hidden mouth? If not, how did it plan to consume?

Although neither of the two knew exactly what they expected, the answer came in a form they certainly  _ didn’t _ : Shroom took the ale and poured it on itself, akin to watering a plant. Logically, this made sense. He  _ was _ , as far as they were aware, a plant. Still, it elicited a laugh from Jaran, followed by chuckle from Aldrava.

“So, landlubber, ye're a writer.” Aldrava began, once a few sips of each of their drinks had been taken, “Nah necessarily a good'un, but 'tis yer trade. Yet I found ye wit' cutlass 'n gun, on a galleon t' a foreign land. Why?” 

“Inspiration.” Jaran replied, simply enough, “Plays don’t write themselves. I need material.” He decided not to mention the letter. The Thieves’ Guild in Bellmoral had intercepted a letter to the Mercenaries Guild, detailing an assignment that, albeit not well defined, was lucrative enough that Jaran felt it could get him out of the poverty that came with one’s inspiration well running dry.

“You’re a…” The writer began, “Actually, I’m not sure  _ what  _ you are.”

Aldrava leaned in across the table, and for a moment, Jaran couldn’t help but glance down her top. “I be a marine.” She said at last, her voice hardly above a whisper, “Or at least I was. Quit th' life a few years back.” That would explain the military uniform jacket, and the knowledge about sailing that had inflated her ego earlier that morning.

“Keoland?” Jaran guessed.

“Aye, Keoland.” Aldrava nodded, “Served her fer six years afore th' sexism got t' me. Men, hardly more competent than ye, were promoted ahead o' me each month.” 

“And now you’re an adventurer? Or just going back home?”

“'t’would loot a lot t' brin' me back ship, landlubber.” Aldrava shook her head, leaning back, “No, me guild got a letter. Some noble sort be assemblin' a crew t' go on a mission, 'n ye wouldna believe th' loot he's offerin'.”

Jaran raised an eyebrow. “Was it Aubreck Drallion by any chance?” He couldn’t help but ask.

“Aye. Somethin' in Saltmarsh, wouldna say wha'. But he needs a crew, 'n th' pay be fantastic. Ye know 'im?”

Now it was Jaran's turn to lean across the table, lowering his voice as his companion had done earlier. “I got the letter too.” He admitted, “Well, my guild did. You’re not going to believe this, but I’m en route to Saltmarsh for the same reason.”

A half-grin crossed Aldrava’s face. “Then I guess this makes us a Party. Me 'n a landlubber, who would 'ave guessed?”

Jaran returned the grin. “I guess it does.”

 

Thirty minutes and nine copper pieces later, Jaran and Aldrava walked out of the Bat & Dog, followed closely by Shroom. Already, the Myconid was getting some odd looks, and not just became it was literally pouring drinks on itself a few minutes ago.

“So, wha' now, landlubber?” Aldrava inquired.

“Fucked if I know.” Jaran responded with a shrug, “You’re the sea dog, and we’re in a port town.”

“Nah a port town I've ever been t' afore.” Aldrava countered, “But I suppose a bit o' walkin' can nah hurt, thar has t' be somethin' t' do around here.”

Jaran agreed with a nod, and the two began to walk down the street, looking at building signs and facades for something that might pique their interest.

They didn’t find one, however, instead finding quite a scene in what passed for the Styes’ city market. An aged man dressed in grey robes brandished a holy symbol against an onslaught of rocks and taunts, tossed at him by a small crowd. 

“Please!” The man begged, “He wasn’t a murderer! Even if he was, nobody knew!  _ I  _ surely didn’t! He never told me anything!”

The crowd was undeterred. Although the rocks bounced harmlessly off a bubble emitting from the holy symbol, each projectile got a bit further, and it was clearly only a matter of time until the Sanctuary gave way.

This gave Jaran and Aldrava pause. On one hand, this man was clearly being harrassed, on the other, they were new to the Styes, causing trouble might not be the best course of action. The decision if to intervene or not was a difficult one.

It was Shroom who made the decision for them, lumbering towards the poor man and his hasslers and positioning its fungal body between the two. Just as the lynch mob began murmuring among themselves and the rocks became less frequent, Shroom extended its staff, a ball of flame engulfing the end.

Although the fire flickered and licked at the tip of Shroom’s staff, the wood did not burn or turn to ash. This was magic - surprising Jaran and Aldrava as much as the crowd. It was sufficient; the common folk of the Styes knew better than to mess with one capable of controlling the elements, and they scattered, blending back into the crowds that wandered the streets or simply fleeing altogether.

Once he was sure there was no threat left, Shroom ended its spell, the fire flickering for only a few moments before going out like one had blown on a candle. The man behind him also ended his Sanctuary spell, and as Jaran and Aldrava approached, he looked them up and down.

“T-thank you!” The man enthused, “Thank you so much! The Lantern Ghost Murders! They have turned people into monsters! Paranoia! Lynching! And it’s all covered up!”

“Slow down, scallywag.” Aldrava ordered, “'twas Shroom here who saved yer life, we don't wants t' hear yer tale.”

Just as the man was about the apologise, Jaran spoke up. “Honestly, I do.” He commented, “We need something to do. What’s the harm in listening to an old man ramble for a bit?”

Aldrava sighed. “This was nah wha' I had in mind.” she protested before giving in, “But I suppose 'twill do.” 

“Then come!” The man motioned constantly with his hands as he spoke, as if somehow being too still would cause him discomfort, “Let’s go to my place! I have food! And drink! W-we can- I mean you can- you’ll be quite comfortable!”

 

A modest wood-and-brick building sat among the Alchemist’s Quarter, a large district housing all sorts of chemical work that would be frowned upon in a more civilized city. It was here that the three adventurers were lead, and here that they found themselves eating stale bread and drinking cheap ale as they sat in rotting chairs surrounded by half-finished clockwork inventions, the smell of grease, and shelves of books on every imaginable topic.

The man Shroom had saved stood before them, pacing and making grand gestures as he explained his situation: He was named Sherborne Refrum, and he was a solitary individual with few who he could call friends. The one he had once considered his closest friend was Jarme Loveage, a man whose execution Refrum had attended only the previous day. The memory, it was apparent, still haunted the tinkerer.

“The Lantern Ghost Murders!” Refrum became more excited, “Terrible, terrible things! For half a year, each night new victims would be slayed in the most gruesome ways! Then, without fail, left in public places to be discovered the next morning. Oh, those poor people who had to find the bodies… they were never the same…”

“Oh, but that isn’t all! The Militia, they hardly raised a finger! Sure, they put on a show of investigating each crime scene, but they hardly went on after that! They didn’t put any extra patrols in areas where the Lantern Ghost struck, or- or anything!”

“How did they catch yer heartie, then?” Aldrava inquired. Despite her initial resistance to this meeting, she had proven quite interested in the story.

“They- they didn’t!” Refrum made an excited gesture, “It was a poor, poor woman… found Jarme standing right over a mutilated corpse! Covered in blood! Knife in hand! But… something was different about him, I heard. Jarme- Jarme was a kind and gentle soul, and sane as any man can be! But, when they found him, he was distant… quiet...  until he flew into these… incoherent ramblings! He went to the gallows a loon, a  _ loon  _ I tell you! Of course, I tried to investigate myself. But there’s only so much a man can do, and the Militia, they were always of no help! They blocked me at every turn, even when I offered to cast Speak on Jarme's corpse!”

“Oh, but it gets  _ worse _ !” Refrum insisted, suddenly flying into another fit of excitement, “They threatened to lock me up in Hopene’er,  just like Jarme! If I continued my investigation, I mean! Which is why I come to you, noble adventurers. They can’t lock you up! Well, I mean, they can, but I reckon they won’t. You have that… Thing! That mushroom man! That Myconid! They wouldn’t dare mess with you so long as he’s around!”

Jaran moved to stroke his beard before remembering he had shaved his facial hair when he left Bellmoral.

Jaran paused, his hand once again reaching to where his beard would have been. His facial hair had been in a style popular with the nobility of Bellmoral - he had shaven it to better blend in with the common man, but was now beginning to regret it. Surely, he looked like a fool constantly reaching to his face, only to come away empty.

“What’s there to investigate?” He inquired at last, “They caught Jarme with knife, body, and insanity. I’m going to take it he didn’t have an alibi?”

“Aye.” Aldrava nodded, “He might 'ave been sane when ye knew 'im, but it jus' seems t' me th' Abyss had a grip on his mind when ye weren't lookin'.”

“A framing.”  Jaran affirmed, “We’ll look into it. But we’re only here for a day, so don’t expect miracles.”

“Ah, but- but!” Refrum raised an aged finger, “The Lantern Ghost didn’t stop! Today! This morning! A young fisherman called Raif - poor soul - he was murdered in the exact same way! The Guard, they’ve been doing their best to cover it up, but word spreads! Put it all together and what do you get?!”

“Thank you!” Refrum grinned from ear to ear, “Blessings be upon you, adventurers! But be warned! I believe there are forces at work - dark ones! And I believe they have formed a massive conspiracy! I believe they put a curse on Jarme - a horrible one that twisted his mind! Then, when he was caught, they wrapped their hand around his brain and- and squeezed! Of course, whoever is in this conspiracy- whoever runs it, they have power over the guards! That would explain the quick execution, the cover up of poor Raif! It would explain everything!”

Much to Jaran's surprise, Aldrava didn’t seem to have any objections to running a little investigation of their own. Perhaps, he pondered, it was because they had nothing else to do for their day on detour. Or, perhaps, she had a more altruistic side.

“The Council  _ must  _ be involved in this!” Refrum continued ranting, “And I am  _ sure  _ they are watching me! My reputation as a thorn in the side of the council...  nobody will speak to me. But  _ you _ , not only do you have a magic mushroom! You have no reputation! People will talk to you! So, go! Go to Hopene’er Asylum! That’s where Jarme was held his last days!  _ That _ is where you’re  _ sure  _ to find clues!


	2. Dark Justice

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Party begins to search for clues regarding the Lantern Ghost Murders and their supposed perpetrator.

Located on the far side of the Styes, Hopene’er Asylum was the last remnants of a more optimistic time, when the desperate and doomed of the Styes were cared for and watched over. Now, it was a prison. Large stone walls dotted with barred off windows kept the public out and the inmates in, each keeping their own little worlds apart from each other.

As Jaran, Shroom, and Aldrava approached, they couldn’t help but notice a well-worn wooden sign hanging over the main gate. One which read only the ominous words: Welcome Home.

“Well that's farrgin' morbid.” Aldrava commented, prompting a nod from Jaran and even what was possible a nod from Shroom.

The team approached the gate and Jaran tried the handle, but to no avail. It was locked, most likely to keep the lunatics locked up there from having an easy exit.

Luckily, it was not long until their presence at the gate was noticed by a youth in a grey tunic with ‘Hopene’er’ written across the back and a number across the right breast. This was an inmate - an assumption solidified by the fact that this child had an unnerving, blank look in his eyes. It was as if his very soul ceased to exist.

“Welcome to Hopene’er. Name is Brey. Help you?” The youth spoke quickly, leaving out words.

“Aye, wee one.” Aldrava leaned down so she was on Brey’s level, “We seek entry. Can ye get us someone t' let us in?”

“Will fetch Miss Trantor.” Brey announced, “Be back shortly.” With that, he walked further into the asylum grounds, before vanishing into the main building.

A few minutes later, Brey returned, holding the hand of an elderly woman in a doctor’s coat. Once again, ‘Hopene’er’ was written on the back, but there was no identification number. Instead, a badge hung around the woman’s neck, identifying her as Emil Trantor.

“Dr. Trantor, I assume?” Jaran spoke up as the woman approached.

“Not doctor, miss.” Emil corrected the rogue, “There are no doctors working here anymore. Do you have a patient to enroll?”

“Aye. Me.” Aldrava’s voice took on the tone one might associate with dark, sarcastic humour, “I agreed t' come t' a spooky asylum t' investigate a murder in a city I've only ever heard o', accompanied by a landlubber 'n a magic mushroom.. So, lock me up, for no doubt I be crazy.”

Ignoring this, Jaran replied, “No. We’re here on behest of Sherborne Refrum.”

“That’s Mr. Loveage’s friend, isn’t it?” Emil asked, “Poor, poor man. I can’t imagine having to see my best - if possibly only - friend hanging from the gallows. However, I’m afraid I can’t be of any help. The only way I can allow someone to both enter and leave Hopene’er is with permission of the guards. Anyone else… well, the only other way in is a one-way trip.”

Jaran nodded, reaching futilly for his beard for a third time. He had expected things wouldn’t be quite so easy. Just as we was about to speak up, though, Emil continued: “You should speak to Constable Jute. She’s a good soul, in fact, the only guard I trust in this whole damned city. If anyone will help you, it’s her.”

“'n where can Constable Jute be found, then?” Aldrava inquired.

“The garrison, when not on patrol.” Emil responded, “Oh, and don’t mention Mr. Lovage or his friend to anyone but her. The other guards… they won’t take it so well. You see… A handful of the guards are honest, but they are the exceptions. Most of the militia members are youths who needed a job, and whose ambition is satisfied by becoming paid thugs.”

 

The three-story stone building that housed the Stye’s garrison was more like a prison than a barracks. Three hundred guards, at least, were crammed into space only meant to hold one hundred, and so often, many were sent out on patrol.

These patrols were coming and going when Jaran and Aldrava approached. They had opted to leave Shroom at Hopene’er - no doubt, an oversized fungus creature from the Underdark would raise alarm if it approached the city’s barracks.

For the most part, the two were ignored until they reached the door. There, they were finally paid notice, in the form of being stopped by a militiaman with a rather pretentious-looking pencil mustache.

“Hold it right there, civilians!” The militiaman raised his hand in a ‘halt’ motion, “Nobody without business gets past these doors. State yours.”

“We be here t' see Constable Jute.” Aldrava responded, “Private business, between us adventures 'n yer friend.”

“Trust me, you don’t want to give us trouble.” The thief backed up his companion, “Generally not a good idea to mess with well-armed, well-trained, well-seasoned individuals. Plus, we just want to talk.”

The guard nodded. “Right, then. However, Jute is on patrol right now. I’d recommend you wait until she gets back. Should only be ‘bout an hour.”

“We be busy people. Don't 'ave an hour t’ waste.” Aldrava insisted, “Where be her route lootin' her?”

 

The southwest section of the Styes hosted most of the district’s industry and mercantile efforts. Most of the community’s fishers lived there, and numerous warehouses lined the edges of the quarter. Most of these places were either abandoned and boarded up, or served as flophouses. In other words, it was exactly where the town militia would need to keep a close eye - and, so, where they often did.

As Jaran and Aldrava walked among the abandoned warehouses and run-down fisheries, they couldn’t help but get a feeling of sorrow. Here more than anywhere, the Stye’s former grandeur presented itself. Here, more than ever, one could almost feel the dead hopes and dreams of an industry hoping to make a good future. 

Constable Jute was a woman of about thirty, with short, ginger hair she kept in a ponytail.  She dressed in the armour of the militia - a grey tunic and some basic metal plates for protection. It was actually Jute who saw the outsiders before they saw her, and approached.

“We don’t get many foreigners in this area, visitors.” Jute remarked, plainly, “What brings you two here? I hope not trouble.”

“No, not at all.” Jaran shook his head, “We come in peace. We’re looking for Constable Jute. Do you know her?”

“More than that, I  _ am  _ her.” Jute responded, “So you’re foreigners and you can call me by name. That’s… well, those two things don’t usually go together. What’s up?”

“Can we speak in private?” Aldrava spoke up. She didn’t need to say more - Jute knew better than anyone how the guards in the Styes were, she didn’t need prompting to speak away from them.

“Of course.” the constable agreed, then turned to her division, “You lot! Wait for me across the street, we’ll only be a second.”

 

Almost as soon as the name ‘Jarme Loveage’ came up, Jute’s whole demeanour changed. At first, it was far less welcoming, but this changed to twofold the original helpfulness when the Party revealed they were investigating on behalf of Refrum. 

“I’m the one who arrested Mr. Lovage.” Jute admitted, “Found him crouched over his victim covered in blood and carrying a knife… didn’t need much more evidence than that. That’s not what bothers me. No, that’s what happened after the arrest.”

“'n wha' would that be?” Aldrava inquired.

“Well, first he was dead quiet.” Jute responded, “Totally zoned out, and he never looked at anyone. Sure, he’d look in our direction, but his eyes seemed to look through us, as if staring into some other Plane. Then, suddenly, everything changed. At first it was a murmuring, then it was talking, then it was screaming. All incomprehensible. All garbled gibberish about the sea and doom. Then, it changed again. Just as I was preparing to lock him up in Hopne’er as a loon, he seemed to return to reality. But, he had no clue what was going on. Last he could remember he was preparing to lay down in bed for the night - nothing about the murder, or even how he got to the garrison.”

Jaran’s hand made a half motion to his beard, this time catching himself before he could move it all the way up to his face. “What then?”

“Then, well, this is where things get weird.” Jute continued, “One of my comrades came in, told me we’d gotten a letter from Counselor Dory. He wanted the man transferred to Hopene’er immediately. No questioning, no interrogation - well, not from us. Apparently he wanted a special team to do it. Don’t know if they ever did, or if he just hanged. Hard to tell in this city.”

“Dory?” Aldrava asked, “That's a name I haven't heard afore. Who's he?”

“Oh, right.” Jute chuckled, “Forgot you weren’t from around here. We don’t get many visitors. Councillor Dory is one of the leaders of the Styes. He’s a wealthy warehouse owner. Um, he has a skin condition. Something called Innsmouth Disease, I think? It makes him smell hideous and have the looks to match. Also, he has to take regular immersion in water, I think to ease the pain.”

Jaran nodded, “One more thing.”

“Sure, anything.” Jute acknowledged.

“We need access to Hopene’er Asylum. Y’know, to investigate Loveage’s room.”

 

With a letter from Jute in hand, the team of two met up with their Myconid ally back at Hopene’er Asylum, and were finally allowed entrance to the home of the Stye’s forsaken. Although Emil was too busy to guide them around personally, she gave them a personal guide - identified only as ‘Bennett’ - to see them around.

Bennett was a gaunt, older man in a doctor’s coat, possibly slightly deranged himself. From him, they learned the asylum’s five staff were hard pressed to control the more than four hundred ‘patients’, and consequently, the less troubled residents were enlisted to help run the place. Over time, the line between ‘patient’ and ‘doctor’ was known to blur, until one could only tell the difference from their uniform.

At first, this was all Bennett would say. Once he learned they were trying to prove Jarme’s innocence, though, his tune changed.

“He was a quiet type.” Bennett informed the three, as they headed into the lockup, “Resolute in his claims of innocence. I mean, I have no reason to doubt the claims against him - Jute is the last good guard I’ve met here - but Mr. Loveage’s remorse was far more compelling - and believable - than any other ‘troubled person’ I am have met yet.”

“Did he get any visitors?” Jaran inquired, “Beyond Refrum’s attempt.”

“One.” Bennett nodded, taking a lantern from a nearby shelf, “Do any of you have a light?”

Once again, the flame flickered on the end of Shroom’s staff, and it touched it to the lantern. Although Bennett seemed surprised to see magic, the fact that the mage in question was already a giant fungus proved to prepare him for such an unexpected event.

“It was Councillor Dory himself.” Bennett continued, “Made sure he was the only person allowed to visit him, and that none of us were to attend the meeting. I tried telling him, meeting with a potential psychotic alone, well that’s not safe… but he wouldn’t listen. No, he wouldn’t listen.”

Bennett eventually stopped before a heavily locked door, at which he offered a word of caution: “This wing is where the worst of our cases are kept. I beg you not to look into any of the other cells. We’ve given succor to many folk over the years, but those here are truly forsaken by the gods.”

Unlocking the door revealed a long corridor with iron doors lining both walls. Each door had a small viewing hatch that was latched shut. No sooner had the door opened than an unnatural gurgle churned up from a cell to the right, and was soon joined by other voices.

The journey down the hall was not pleasant, and even Shroom seemed uncomfortable. Constant screaming and cursing from the cells combined with an overpowering stench of unwashed bodies, filth, mildew, and rotting straw assaulted the senses, but Bennett ignored the din and sensation, hurrying to the far end of the hall, where he ushered the three through an open cell door.

The walls beyond were covered with childlike sketches, all overlapping each other in confusing waves and patterned swirls. In a way, it was beautiful. In another, it was surreal. And, in yet another, it was disturbing beyond all belief.

“See, writer lad?” Aldrava commented, clearly trying to diffuse the obvious tension, “Doesn't take a genius t' make art. Ye could stick these up in a museum 'n yer precious nobles would pay fine gold t' see them.”

“Ha ha.” Jaran remarked dryly, studying the art. As he continued to look it over, the swirling chaos of the mural began to take forms: It depicted a massive, tentacled creature devouring a city - and, although crude, the skyline suggested it was the Styes. 

The creature, it soon became apparent, was drawn trapped in a deep chasm, perhaps an underwater pit, its tentacles wrapped around humanoids who were subsequently drawn being pulled down into the dark.

What was most odd was the creature itself, though. The drawing depicted it bound by a chain, the other end of the chain held by a creature resembling a large, multi-tailed fish.

That was all Jaran and Aldrava could garner from it, before the stench and ruckus overwhelmed them.

“I’ve seen enough.” Jaran stated at last, “We’re leaving.”

“Aye, landlubber.” Aldrava agreed, “Couldn't 'ave said it better meself.”

 

With their two leads examined and hardly any clues found, the Party returned to the Alchemist’s Quarter, to bring Refrum the bad news: There was certainly something suspicious going on, but they were no closer to finding out what it was, or who was involved, then when they started. Councillor Dory was strange, yes, but the evidence against him was all situational - hardly something you could go to the militia with.

When they arrived, however, they found something unexpected: Outside was the guard, in the process of dragging Refrum off.

“Hey!” Jaran demanded, seeing a familiar face among the guard gathered outside, “What’s going on here?!”

“Step aside, visitors.” Juke responded, “Orders from Councillor Dory himself. Refrum is to be arrested and tried as an accomplice to the Lantern Ghost Murderer… is that a Myconid?”

“Aye.” Aldrava affirmed, “His name be Shroom, 'n he's goin' t' farrg up every poor sod in a quarter mile o' here if ye don't tell us exactly wha' be goin' on.”

At first, Juke didn’t seem quite so convinced, but her tune changed when Shroom’s staff began to glow brightly. Of course, the militiamen nearby reached to their pistols and swords, but exactly what a creature known for thriving in the hellish Underdark was capable of wasn’t something they wanted to figure out firsthand.

“Councillor Dory got an anonymous tip that Mr. Refrum was involved with the Lantern Ghost Murders.” Juke informed them, defeated, “At first, I didn’t believe it. However, when we searched his apartment, we found a map, with the location of this morning’s murder marked clearly off.”

“He was investigating the murders!” Jaran protested, “Of course he’d mark that location off!”

“Yeah, that’s what I want to think.” Juke agreed, “But orders are orders, his case will be taken before a judge.”

“'n I be goin' t' guess this 'judge' be Councillor Dory hisself?” Aldrava snarked.

“Probably.” Juke sighed, “But I’m not about to disobey orders. I’ve told you this before. Now call off your mushroom.”

Jaran paused. Surely, having Shroom use whatever magic it possessed to make quick work of these guards  _ was  _ an option. But it wasn’t a good one. An innocent man might hang if they didn’t intervene, but they all might if they did.

Finally, he made up his mind. “Stand down, Shroom.” He ordered. He wasn’t sure it would work - but at least he could try. It did work, Shroom put out the light of its staff and returned it to a resting position. Visibly relieved, the guards untensed, and continued with the arrest.

Once they were gone, Jaran turned to his companion. “Dory.” He said, simply.

“Aye.” Aldrava nodded, “Wherever we turn, that scallywag comes up. He's our next lead.”

“Our  _ only  _ lead.” Jaran pointed out, “Other than a few scribbles on an asylum wall and some shady goings-on, we’ve got nothing.”

“Nah quite. Refrum's given us a handy tip.”

“...am I missing something?”

“Aye, yer sea legs, landlubber. But other than that, he's got a map wit' th' most recent murder in his house. That looks like a damn good ship t' start.”

Jaran nodded, then walked to the door to Refurm’s house. He tried the knob, only to find out it was - of course - locked. “Can I trust you with a secret?” he inquired, turning to Aldrava.

“Let me guess. Ye're smitten by me?” Aldrava chuckled.

“No. Just, what I’m about to do, don’t ask too many questions.”

“Aye.” Aldrava agreed, and Jaran kneeled down, taking out his set of thieves’ tools and setting to work.

As with most of the Styes, the locking mechanism in Dory’s abode was severely outdated and worn, and so Jaran had it open in three minutes flat. He put his tools away and looked to Aldrava, who seemed pleasantly surprised.

“Th' landlubber has some practical uses aft all.” she cocked an eyebrow, “Maybe I won't totally maroon ye when we get t' Saltmarsh.”

“Remember.” Jaran reminded her, “No questions. Now come on, we haven’t got all day.”

 

If the three had thought Refrum’s chambers a mess before, they were beyond that now. Bookshelves were overturned, inventions shattered on the floor, and a puddle of oil had formed where a lamp had been knocked over. Luckily, the lamp wasn’t lit, or the whole place would have no doubt gone up in flames.

It was unclear if Refrum had put up a struggle against his arresting guards or they had torn the place apart looking for anything to incriminate him, but either way, locating the map to the crime scene took about 20 minutes.

When they finally found it, the map was too badly damaged by a puddle of water from a knocked over flask to read.

“Farrgin' Abyss!” Aldrava cursed, “Ye got any other ideas?”

“One.” Jaran affirmed, “I’m pretty sure we know where Refrum is being held. We go there and talk to him. Get some details.”

“Like they be goin' t' let us in.” Aldrava scoffed, “I be sure Dory has that ship locked tighter than a virgin's powder pan.”

“Right.” Jaran sighed, “Then we go back to plan one: investigate Dory.”

“Aye, Dory.” Aldrava agreed.

“We know Dory’s a wealthy warehouse owner.” Jaran mused, “So we can start by locating his warehouse, work from there.”


	3. Strange Housekeeping

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jaran, Aldrava, and Shroom investigate the enigmatic and suspicious man known as Councillor Dory.

Twenty minutes later, bells all across the Styes tolled twelve times to mark it was noon. The three adventurers had chosen a tavern called the Wicked Warlock to eat lunch. Being that they were in the Alchemist’s Quarter, the places to eat were nicer than elsewhere in the city - but the Wicked Warlock was still a dive in comparison to the places Jaran was used to eating in Bellmoral.

The two humans ordered ale and mutton, while Shroom just ordered beer and poured it on itself. Once they were done eating, they began asking around for information on Dory or his warehouse.

Most of what they got was what they already knew: Dory had a debilitating case of Innsmouth Syndrome, ran the Styes with a corrupt hand, and generally inspired a mix of respect, fear, and mockery in the people who lived under his rule.

The new information they discovered was that Dory’s unique home was in the center of the Alchemists’ Quarter, perched at the edge of a large swath of mud and known as Hemlock Pit. With a ‘consultation fee’ of 10 copper pieces, Jaran also found out that his house was guarded by no less than three vicious guard dogs, which, although nobody had ever seen as his house was surrounded by a wall, were heard barking and snarling any time someone wandered a bit too close.

“T' Hemlock pit, then?” Aldrava inquired, once the information was shared. “Th' scallywag has t' do some shoppin' every once in awhile, so someone's bound t' know somethin' we don't.”

“Aye- I mean, yes.” Jaran agreed, and the three paid their three copper pieces at the bar and headed out.

 

Hemlock Pit was, quite possibly, the only nice building in the Styes. While the common man lived in poverty, Hemlock Pit was a newer building. It was built upwards, meaning it took more space vertically than it did horizontally, and so it towered three stories above a large wall designed to keep the common man out.

Sure enough, the snarling of guard dogs could be heard from behind the wall, but something about their sound seemed off.

“Th' nerve o' some scallywags.” Aldrava commented, looking Hemlock Pit up and down, “Livin' like king's while thar underlin's 'ave t' starve 'n loot.”

“Yeah.” Jaran agreed, putting his hands in his pockets to avoid the uncanny need to stroke his non-existent beard, “We only really know one thing about Dory: He smells like a rotten fish. And, wears a lot of perfume to try and hide it. So, I guess the closest perfumer is the one who might know him best.”

“Aye, seems like.” Aldrava agreed, and the two began their search.

 

The local perfumer existed in the form of a well-to-do man named Jubal Harshaw. Jubal’s store was larger and better upkeep than most, and could easily be found both by directions from the locals and the overwhelming mix of aromas that seemed to seep out of its very seams.

“Welcome, welcome!” No sooner had Jaran and Aldrava entered Jubal’s Perfumes than they were greeted by a rather rotund man with shaggy, black hair and the clothes of a minor noble, “Ah, a beautiful couple! And you’ve come to Jubal to smell nice for each other, no?”

Aldrava seemed stunned. “I- we- no, we be nah- he's nah-” She stuttered.

“We’re not together.” Jaran firmly finished his companion’s broken sentence, “Just friends. But I’m sure if I wanted to smell nice for a date, you’d be the one to come to.”

“Ah, right you are!” Jubal gave a jovial laugh, causing the various flasks across his outfit to jingle, “I cater to the nobility of the Styes, those who want to impress! Of course, it comes with a price tag, but you get what you pay for, no?”

Jaran already felt he had a good reading on this man. If they were going to get any information out of him, they needed to flatter him - so he continued.

“Of course! We heard you even cater to Councillor Dory himself!” Jaran let out a charming half smirk, “Such a shame, his Innsmouth Syndrome, but I’m sure your wares make even him smell wonderful!”

“Ah, Dory, Dory…” Jubal chuckled again, “Such a poor case. It’s genetic, you know. Not a ‘curse from the gods’ or whatever people have told you. We’ve had many a chat, and he explained how it ran in his family...  he thought he was safe when he didn’t get it by his twentieth birthday, but oh was he wrong, no?”

“So ye know 'im?” Aldrava inquired. It wasn’t the most graceful way of asking, but luckily, Jaran had already buttered the man up and he was in a talking mood.

“He’s an odd one.” Jubal affirmed, “Besides just the fact that he looks like a dying fish. Which is strange on it’s own, no? Speaking of fish, I think he owns a few - he’s always talking about his ‘beauties in the pool’. The odd thing? I made a joke, if he’d like to buy perfume for them, too. He took the idea in full seriousness, and now buys extra vials just for them.”

“He buys perfume for his fish?!” Jaran raised an eyebrow.

“I think the Innsmouth claimed part of his mind, no?” Jubal shrugged, “Only way I can understand. But who am I to judge? He wants his fish to smell as nice as possible, I make his fish smell as nice as possible!”

“This may be a silly riddle…” Aldrava seemed genuinely interested, “but wha' do ye sell fer fish?”

“Well, nothing _specifically_ for fish.” Jubal explained, “Sort of a custom order, no? But for _his_ fish, Dory buys a scent called ‘Euphoria’. Very strong, very nice. The fish love it, the ladies love it, and so will you!”

At that moment, Shroom, who had been waiting outside, entered the perfumer’s, casually looking around with his glowing orbs.

“Ah, welcome! Welcome!” Jubal beamed, seemingly totally unphased by the presence of a Myconid in his shop, “A Myconid, such a rare customer… no doubt, you came straight out of the Underdark, and you immediately needed to visit old Jubal Harshaw! After all, only the finest products will do for a creature with such an attuned sense of pheromones!”

Shroom just stared at the perfumer, then gave a polite nod.

“He doesn't natter any.” Aldrava explained his silence.

“I’ll tell you what, you’re traveling with a Myconid, and Myconid spore perfume has made me a lot of money in the past.” Jubal began again, “I’ll cut you a deal: I’ll sell you a bottle Crystal Noir, 33% off.”

“We be nah here t'-” Aldrava started, but Jaran cut her off. If they were going to get anything more out of Jubal, they needed to play along with his self-important delusions.

“How much would it be?” Jaran inquired, “It’s be an honour to buy from such a distinguished salesman. Normally, I’d question your other products, but with _you_ , well I’m sure you know what’s best.”

“Of course I do!” Jubal smiled, taking out a black perfume vial and placing it on the counter, “10 gold pieces for the vial!”

Jaran repressed the need to wince and reminded himself he’d be making far more than that when they got to Saltmarsh the next day. He took out 10 gold like it was no big deal and handed it over, then put the perfume in his bag.

“Can you tell us more about Dory?” The thief inquired, “He seems like such an interesting fellow.”

“I can tell you he bought an extra order of Davidoff’s ‘Cool Water’ this morning!” Jubal mused, “Good product! He said he’d been at a murder scene. Such a shame, a murder in the Alchemist’s Quarter - at least it wasn’t the Lantern Ghost anymore, no?”

“So ye know where 'twas, then?” Aldrava inquired.

“Of course, of course!” Jubal beamed, “Dory and I share everything! Not just perfume tips! I’m good friends with all my regulars, no?”

 

It wasn’t hard to get the location of the most recent murder out of Jubal, so, after a lengthy conversation in which Jaran had to tactfully avoid multiple attempts to sell him more overpriced perfume, the three were on their way.

The murder scene was in an alleyway on the far reaches of the Alchemist’s Quarter’s northern end. Much to Jaran's surprise, there weren’t guards wandering around - but from a few locals, they learned the body had been immediately removed and cremated.

It was clear no effort had been made to clean up the scene. No doubt, the guard had figured the local rats and gulls would clean up the scene for them, and so blood and even a few chunks of what one could assume to be human were sitting around still.

Jaran and Aldrava studied the scene from top to bottom, but other than the obvious morbidity, they couldn’t find anything of interest.

It was Shroom who found something useful, in the form of what appeared to be bloody footprints. Jaran had seen these earlier, but their webbed nature had caused him to overlook them as belonging to gulls. However, on closer inspection, they were far too big to belong to any bird.

“Aldrava, come here!” Jaran called, “I think I- well, Shroom found something!”

“About time.” Aldrava commented, “'ave ye considered splashin' yer new perfume all o'er this ship t' get rid o' th' smell?”

Aldrava walked over and looked at the footprints. No sooner had she seen them than her eyes widened. “I reckon we be nah dealin' wit' humans.”

Jaran crouched down, studying the footprint closer. “I think you’re right.” he agreed, “The gripping insanity, these footprints, those murals. I’m not sure what it is, but Refrum was right. Something sinister is afoot in this city.”

“'n somehow, Dory be connected t' all o' it.” Aldrava agreed.

“...So, you want to investigate Dory.” Came a sudden voice from the end of the alleyway. The two humans reached for their guns, and even Shroom held out its staff, ready to cast a spell. Into the alley walked a small figure, obviously a halfling or gnome judging by her height, and as she moved into the light, it was revealed to be a well-dressed young gnome.

“You can put your guns away.” The gnome assured them, “If I wanted to hurt you, I wouldn’t have announced myself. No, I want to help. From one adventurer to another.”

  
“Alright, wha''s yer help?” Aldrava asked. Ye pull any funny stuff, me cutlass be goin' straight through yer heart.”

“Not so fast, friend.” The Gnome chuckled, “My name is Grotten, and I charge a fee.”

“Sink me, thar 'tis.” Aldrava rolled her eyes.

“Hey!” Grotten protested, “A girl’s gotta make a living in this city!”

Jaran and Aldrava paused for a second, on one hand, there was no saying this information would be of any use. Even if she was going to give a legitimate tip, it could easily be something they already knew. Still, they were basically out of leads - and neither of them wanted to give up the case.

“I’ll give you a bottle of perfume.” Jaran said, at last, “I bought it for 10 gold, you can probably fense it.”

Grotten considered this for a second, before nodding. Jaran took out the bottle of perfume with his free hand, handing it over. “Alright, speak.”

At last, Grotten smiled, putting the perfume in her backpack. “Alright, now we’re talking! So, a few days ago, I got this tip, from… uh, an associate. He said there were a cache of pearls being stored at Dory’s warehouse. Big ones, expensive ones, and the like. So, I went to see if the place was worth ‘visiting’.”

Jaran nodded. “Go on.”

“That warehouse was _way_ too busy. People were coming in and out all night, watched over by strange figures totally hidden by dark cloaks. Then, finally, this massive statue that looked like nothing I’d ever seen before - like it was made from the parts of sea creatures - was taken out. And then… the activity stopped. That’s all I know.”

Aldrava nodded, putting away her gun. Jaran did the same, and finally Shroom returned its staff to a neutral location.

“If you’re looking to learn more about Dory, I’d say: Start at his warehouse.” Grotten concluded, “But be careful of those robed figures.”

 

Obviously, the ideal plan of action would be to sneak into the warehouse at night - but the Party was only in the Styes for a day, and didn’t have that much time. So, they decided to approach during the day and see if they couldn’t blend in and do some investigating.

The original plan was to leave Shroom behind, as it would attract too much attention - but, upon being told this, Shroom used magic to turn itself into a handsome, young elf male. Perfect for blending in.

 

Mr. Dory’s warehouse was a three-story stone building, roofed in slate and dotted with iron-barred windows. Its walls and roof appeared to be coated with a bituminous black gruel, an accumulation of the pollution that belched from nearby alchemists’ workshops.

At first, Jaran, Aldrava, and Shroom approached unnoticed amongst the crowds. The warehouse bustled with workers who loaded and unloaded large, six-wheeled freight wagons. Dory rented space in the warehouse to merchants and alchemists, many of whom used it as a staging area for shipments.

However, when they got to the door, they were stopped by a large, burlish-looking guard.

“State your business.” was all he had to say.

“We be here t' see Councillor Dory.” Aldrava lied, “None o' yer business wha' we wants from 'im, though.”

“Well you can’t bloody see him, because he’s not bloody here.” The guard said, firmly, “However, you can see Miss Chumwell, she manages the warehouse during business hours. If that won’t do, you can bugger off.”

“That’ll do.” Jaran sighed, and the guard nodded, turning to guide them inside.

 

The interior of the warehouse was piled high with crates, boxes, and packages, most marked with alchemists’ personal symbols and ‘Fragile’ or ‘Handle With Care.’ A closed door offered a way into a walled-in area to the northwest., a mechanical lift stood along the south wall to the east, and two iron spiral staircases rose from the northeast and southwest corners.

It was to this walled off area that Jaran, Aldrava, and Shroom were guided. The door, labeled ‘Birsk Chumwell, Manager’, was opened, and the Party was allowed in, to find what appeared to be the

business office of the warehouse, containing filing cabinets, a work desk, and a large table, along with two sets of rickety bunk beds.

Behind the work desk was a phlegmatic, no-nonsense woman with a permanent look of frustration and a never-ending list of tasks. One could assume this was Brisk Chumwell, especially after the guard greeted her with, “Miss Chumwell, these sods have business with Dory.” and walked off.

Brisk looked up, adjusting her glasses and staring plainly at the two before sighing, “I can put a request in for you to meet with the councillor, but it will probably be six business days before he can meet with you.” She informed them.

“Actually, you might be able to help us.” Jaran smiled, walking over to the desk, “We’re looking to rent space in this warehouse, you see. Figured it might be a good idea to get a small tour first.”

Brisk sighed. “Right.” She rested her head in her hand, “That has to be the stupidest thing I’ve heard all day. It’s a _warehouse_. There’s nothing to see unless you have a fetish for large, well-marked boxes. Now please, get out. I have work to do.”

 

“Alright, landlubber.” Aldrava turned to Jaran once the two were out of Brisk’s office, “That farrgin' failed. Ye got any more plans?”

“Actually, yes.” Jaran nodded, “You might notice there’s no guard to escort us out. There’s nothing stopping us from wandering as we see fit.”

Aldrava stopped, looking around as if expecting someone to tell them to keep moving. However, nobody did. “Aye, ye be right.” she observed, “I suppose we can loot a look around.”

And so they did. Under the previously created guise of touring the warehouse to see if it was good enough to store their goods, they wandered, talking to a few of the workers.

What they could gather was that the warehouse was secure enough, guarded during the day by sheer number of potential witnesses to any wrongdoing, and at night by what were probably guard dogs. The workers could hear the guard dogs making noise in the loft during the day, but they never dared to venture there on their own - in fact, their contracts specifically forbade them from going beyond the second floor.

This wasn’t a problem anyway, the workers agreed, the loft area was used for long-term storage. Many of the crates there were in a kind of legal limbo; their owners had ether forgotten about them, died, or for some other reason never reclaimed their belongings.

Naturally, the loft was where the Party decided to head first.

 

The loft was a large, rectangular room, full of old crates and boxes. At first, as the three adventurers climbed the stairs, they thought it unoccupied. That is, until three manticores emerged sleepily from behind the boxes.

As soon as the manticores realized people had infiltrated their lair, they took on offensive postures and began growling, causing Jaran and Aldrava to stop dead in their tracks.

“Well farrg me!” Aldrava exclaimed, “These nah be dogs!”

“Yeah, a little bit more dangerous.” Jaran agreed, “Let’s go. We can find another way up.”

The three hurried down the stairs, but it did no good - the manticores had sensed prey, and were riled up. Instead of simply going back to sleep, they gave chase. No sooner had the three reached the perceived ‘safety’ of the second floor, then the manticores were on their heels.

Jaran drew his sword first, followed by Aldrava drawing her pistol, and finally, Shroom polymorphed back into its true, Myconid, form, raising his staff and the familiar fire appearing on the end.

Of course, the fact that two humans and a fungus were preparing to fight manticores on the second floor of the warehouse didn’t go unnoticed. Workers who had been minding their own business ran down the stairs, screaming things like ‘Call the militia!” and “Get the guards!” .

Still, the battle began. And it began with a manticore charging at Shroom. Shroom, in turn, tapped its staff against the ground. With a horrible sound, vines began to shoot up from the floor where the manticore was charging, wrapping around its legs and grabbing it. Although the monstrosity struggled against the vines, they proved too strong, and soon the vines wrapped around its body as well.

Jaran, meanwhile, wasn’t going to let a manticore get the jump on him. Holding his rapier in one hand, he moved forward towards the two remaining manticores, performing a riposte maneuver to both slash at the creature and defend himself - this proved to pay off, as the second manticore jumped at him, causing him to barely jump out of the way. As it passed by him, he managed to get off a third slash, this time striking at the monster’s stomach.

Aldrava took aim at the third manticore, seeing as it was the only one not preoccupied, and pulled the trigger of her flintlock. With a BANG! and a cloud of gunpowder, the bullet flew through the air, striking the manticore in the chest. However, seeing how well charging head-in had done for its companions, the manticore chose not to attack head first. Instead, it used its tail, swinging it around - three sharp spikes shot off of the tip of the tail, flying towards the marine.

While the first two spikes missed, the third hit her in the thigh, eliciting a cry of pain from the marine. She didn’t go down, however, drawing her longsword and charging in with a battle cry worthy of a barbarian.

Shroom seemed focused on his trapped manticore, walking forward and touching its flaming staff to the vines. Despite the fact they should be non-flammable, the vines shot up in flames as if dry, and the manticore cried out in pain as it began to be burned alive.

As Aldrava reached her target and performed a strong slash from the left, Jaran continued his attacks on the second manticore, launching a series of rapid fire thrusts, before the beast could recover from its jump. The second manticore swung its large, spiky tail at the rogue, but he was ready - he jumped to the side, then brought his rapier across its tail. The manticore cried out, but this seemed to enrage it more than hurt - a second swing of the tail caught Jaran right in his left arm, and he winced. Now was not the time to bleed, the rogue told himself, and continued with a counterattack.

Meanwhile, the first manticore finally got free from the vines that bound it; they had been sufficiently weakened by the fire. Enraged and in pain, it tackled Shroom, but Shroom was ready. It let the manticore tackle it to the ground, then performed a simple spell: Electrical energy discharged from Shroom’s body in every direction, electrocuting the manticore. As energy surged through its body, the beast let out one final howl of pain, then died. Shroom was quick to assess the situation and get back into the fray, now coming to Aldrava’s aide.

Although Shroom couldn’t use most of his magic without worrying about hitting Aldrava, it proved to be a competent fighter in melee range, using its magical staff as a bowstaff. And so, Aldrava and Shroom made quick work of the third manticore, and their attention turned to the last one - which was involved in a stalemate with Jaran. The rogue’s dodging abilities proved too fast for the manticore most of the time, but on the flip side, his rapier could do no more than minor flesh wounds.

Shroom and Aldrava easily turned the tide, though. And soon, all three manticores were done with. Finally, the Party could catch their breath.

“Well, that was unexpected.” Jaran grinned from ear to ear, “You all alright?”

“Aye.” Aldrava affirmed, “Ye?”

“I’m fine.” The rogue assured her, “My leather caught most of the hit. Now, let’s get out of here before the militia arrives.”

As if on cue, the sound of rattling metal and footsteps were heard from the stairs, followed by ten individuals coming up, all dressed in the armour of the guard.

“Hold it right there!” Constable Juke ordered, “You are all under arrest for disrupting the peace! Drop your weapons, put your hands up, and please, don’t make this any more difficult than it needs to be.”

Jarn paused, turning around. “Listen, Juke.” He insisted, “We can explain.”

“I’m sure you can.” Juke crossed her arms, “And I’m sure the judge will be glad to hear it.”

 

It was Shroom throwing down its staff in surrender that convinced Jaran and Aldrava to give themselves up to the law, and soon the three were being escorted down the street by the contingent of militia sent to arrest them.

They were about halfway through the city when the Party and their captors were approached by a man in a dark brown robe. At first, the guards paid him no mind - he blended perfectly into the civilians that were walking along the street. However, these civilians all kept their distance, while the figure drew closer and closer.

“Halt!” Juke ordered, “Don’t come any closer!”

Her orders were unheeded, and just as Juke’s hand reached the hilt of her sword, the man struck. Or, rather, men. From all around the group, what had been apparent civilians drew hidden weapons and turned on the guards, making quick work of the inexperienced and unexpecting militiamen.

Finally, the man who had originally approached turned to the three prisoners. “Come.” is all he said. He didn’t have to ask twice - still cuffed and unarmed, the Party had no will to resist him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Anyone who has read the source material for this D&D adventure might notice that the end deviates A LOT from the standard adventure laid out in the book. Honestly, this is on merit of me forgetting to include the boat in the warehouse description and not just wanting to go "Oh yeah there's a boat here" when they were halfway through the warehouse.
> 
> Don't worry, we get back on track soon enough.


	4. Fish Food

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Now technically fugitives, the three adventurers prepare for a showdown with Councillor Dory.

The Party was guided through back alleyways and shady passageways, until they finally were brought before what they had previously noted to be the largest building in the Styes. It was a large tower of black and red marble, surrounded by a stone wall.

The shady figures and the Party were allowed through the wall by the guards, and finally, Jaran, Aldrava, and Shroom were uncuffed. They were uncuffed by key - there was no need to force the locks or pick them, which only made the situation odder.

“Mind tellin' me exactly wha''s goin' on?” Aldrava inquired, rubbing her sore wrists.

The Party’s rescuers, however, didn’t respond. Instead, their leader walked towards the main entrance to the tower, motioning for the Party to follow. Without much of a choice, they did.

 

The interior of the tower was grand - or at least, it used to be. Stone pillars were cracked, marble floors had lost their shine, and the tapestries were dirty and torn. Once again, Jaran and Aldrava couldn’t help but get a feeling of nostalgia for a place and time they had never experienced.

Waiting for them was a beautiful woman, with long black hair and a white dress that, despite its simplicity, suggested a status of nobility.

“I apologize for the theatrics.” The woman smiled, “But there was no other way for this to work.”

Jaran returned the smile. The woman was pretty, to say the least, and he couldn’t help but think about how - under different circumstances - he wouldn’t have minded taking her to bed. Aldrava, however, took on much different tone, one of annoyance.

“Aye.” Aldrava accepted the apology, “Now are ye goin' t' tell me wha' th' farrg jus' happened?”

“I happened.” the noble responded, “I happened, Miss. You can call me Councillor Thornwell, and believe it or not, I am on your side.”

“'n why be that?” Aldrava inquired.

“Because I know one of my fellow councillors is involved in something sinister.” Thornwell said, simply enough, “And I know you three have gotten closer to figuring out exactly what that ‘something sinister’ is than anyone else.”

“If you’re so suspicious of Dory, why haven’t you done something?” Jaran asked, “You’re a councillor, no doubt you have influence and power to rival his.”

“I’ve tried.” Thornwell admitted, “I’ve been trying to find out what exactly Dory is up to since shortly after the Lantern Ghost Killings started. However, it’s been no good. Everyone who has been sent to investigate Dory has simply vanished, or become such a loon I’ve had no choice but to lock them up in Hopene’er. And I can’t investigate openly, lest I become a target of these dark forces Dory has in play.”

“Which is where we come in.” Jaran observed.

“Right.” Thronwell nodded, “In one day, you’ve been able to do what I haven’t been able in half a year. And I implore you to continue doing it.”

“'n how do ye propose we do that?” came the obvious question from Aldrava, “We can nah exactly return t' his warehouse.”

“No, I suppose you can’t.” Thornwell shook her head, “But I know where Dory works, and it isn’t Hemlock Pit. No, whatever dark activity he’s up to takes place somewhere off the books. Because the Guard doesn’t know where it is, they won’t be protecting it.”

Jaran mused this over. They had come so far, were so close to getting the answers they’d set out to. And, of course, there was the question of saving the city. He’d never fancied himself a hero (it’s hard to do that as part of a thieves’ guild) , but doing the right thing felt, well, right.

“I’m in.” Jaran said at last.

“I must be a loon, but so am I.” Aldrava agreed, “Nobody's ever called Aldrava Hollace a quitter, 'n I don't intend t' give them reason t' start.”

“Good.” Thornwell smiled, “Then let’s get started.”

 

Since Aldrava’s Keoland Royal Marine jacket was going to be a dead giveaway to their identities, it was left behind at Thornwell Tower when the three embarked for a hidden warehouse on the far side of the Styes. Here, Thornwell had informed them, Dory and his cloaked figures did their dark deeds in an innocuous boat, in which Dory kept a large tank of freshwater to bring relief to his Innsmouth Syndrome.

That was, in fact, how Councillor Thornwell had found out about the warehouse. She had tracked the massive shipments of freshwater that Dory was ordering and not sending to usual locations. Before they all went missing, her spies had informed her that this was also where the strange, robed figures seemed to reside.

The warehouse itself was nothing special. In fact, it resembled a boarded-up version of where Dory did his legal business. It would be totally innocuous, if not that behind the warehouse spread a gray-green pit of mud and a huge, rickety crane protruded from the far wall of the warehouse, its limbs rusted and bent. Dangling from it was the dripping hulk of a ship, hanging some fifty feet above the greasy mud.

“This looks like th' place, aye?” Aldrava observed, looking the warehouse and boat up and down.

“Yeah.” Jaran agreed, “Looks like.” With that, the three adventurers - Shroom once more having taken on the form of an elf - climbed the fence and approached.

“We have two options.” Jaran informed his companions, “Either we climb that crane, or we break in the warehouse and make our way up.”

“Aye.” Aldrava agreed, “I vote th' warehouse. Don't much fancy havin' t' risk fallin' into that mud.”

“I agree.” Jaran nodded. The rancid smell of the mud pit could be smelled even from their location on the far side of the warehouse - who knows what horrible diseases it held?

And so, kneeling down, Jaran used the last of his thieves’ tools to pick the lock on the warehouse, and they entered.

 

The inside of the warehouse was dusty and ill-used, full of boxes and crates that nobody had touched in possibly decades. Two spiraling metal staircases lead up to a second floor, which consisted of pathways around the edges and catwalks through the middle, leaving a wide open space for one to look down upon the floor below. The staircases went to a third floor above that, but this floor was solid all the way through, and so no details of it could be seen.

Jaran and Aldrava entered slowly, weapons drawn. Behind them, Shroom, having re-taken its normal appearance, had its staff at the ready. They were close to whatever shadowy work Dory was undertaking, and no doubt it would be protected.

They were correct. Two robed and hooded figures stood on the second floor walkway, looking down as the door opened and the three entered. These were, no doubt, the ones Grotten and Councillor Thornwell had warned them about.

“Avast! We got company!” Aldrava exclaimed. It was a pointless warning - the figures, instead of taking the stairs, vaulted over the railings, landing a few yards away from the three and shrugging off their robes. Despite initial assumptions, what was below the robes was _not_ human.

Translucent, taut skin covered the body of a creature that looked like a fusion between humanoid and sea oddity. A vaguely human head bearing six, fish-like eyes turned into a thick, gilled neck, which connected to a human torso, which then turned into four tentacles at the bottom. All this covered in slime and smelling like the sea.

“What the fuck are these things?!” Jaran exclaimed, holding his sword out, ready to strike should the creatures come closer.

“Skum!” Aldrava responded, “Should 'ave known Dory made a deal wit' Davy Jones!”

Jaran mentally made a note to ask exactly what ‘skum’ were, but now was not the time to ask questions, as the skum were approaching. They moved unnaturally, undulating and leaving a trail of slime behind. No doubt they would have moved more fluently underwater.

“Engarde, you bastards!” Jaran exclaimed, rushing forwards.

“JARAN NO-!” Aldrava called after him, but it was too late. No sooner had Jaran reached the skum than one reached its hand forward, wrapping its withered fingers around his head. Jaran screamed out as an intense, migraine-like pain flooded his mind, his vision momentarily blurring from the pain and his sword clattering to the ground. Before he could regain himself, the skum’s tentacle slithered around him.

Jaran started struggling and gasping for air as soon as he returned to his senses, but it was no good. The skum’s hold on him was tight and strong - and Shroom couldn’t use its magic on the skum without catching Jaran in the crossfire.

Luckily, it wasn’t just Shroom and Jaran fighting the skum. Aldrava ran forwards after her companion, her sword at the ready. The skum was so focused on restraining Jaran that it failed to notice the marine until it was too late. She got a clean swipe, severing tentacle from body, and Jaran fell to the ground, gasping to catch his breath.

The skum that hadn’t restrained Jaran drew a trident from behind its back and attempted to stab down at the struggling rogue - but this time, Shroom could act. It hurried forward, using its staff to catch the blow. Jaran, seeing the imminent danger, got to his feet, grabbing his sword.

As Jaran prepared for another attack, a raspy voice echoed through his head: ...Yᴏᴜ ᴛᴏᴏ sʜᴀʟʟ ʙᴇʟᴏɴɢ ᴛᴏ ᴛʜᴇ sᴇᴀ...

Jaran ignored this. He could deal with creepy, possibly other-worldly voices when the battle was done. The rogue used his rapier to deflect an incoming tentacle, then struck, jabbing his blade into the ‘flesh’ of the skum. An odd, ink-like substance oozed from its body where it was stabbed.

Aldrava jumped out of the way of the second skum’s attempt to stab her with its trident, then launched a counterattack, throwing herself at the skum and slashing with her sword. The skum, however, moved out of the way, before grabbing her and tossing her backwards.

It was Shroom’s turn to attack - a white light engulfed its staff for a second, and when it faded, his staff was covered in runic patterns of glowing light. It got in close before attacking with a mighty swing - when it hit, a large flash of light emitted from the point of impact, and the skum was sent careening to the side, letting out an otherworldly gurgling sound that could only come from such an aberration.

Seeing that Shroom had a lock on the second skum, Aldrava and Jaran decided to focus on the first, the one missing a tentacle. As Aldrava got to her feet, Jaran struck again, this time bringing down his rapier for a slash across its chest. The skum, in return, reached out with its hand, trying to grab Jaran’s head again.

It was Aldrava who stopped the skum from grabbing her companion’s head - with a mighty stabbing motion, she drove her sword into its stomach and twisted the blade before drawing it out. Although the skum didn’t die as a human would at this injury, heavy amounts of the inky substance that passed for its blood began coming out, and the aberration clutched its stomach with one hand.

The second skum attacked Shroom by reaching out with its tentacles and attempting to slam it, but Shroom took the hit, focusing its magic and creating a five-foot ball of flame a few feet away. With a motion of its hand, Shroom sent the ball of fire smashing into the skum, which roared out as the fire engulfed its body.

Although the slimy nature of the skum prevented it from going up in flames, when the fireball went out a moment later, the creature was badly burnt, its skin flaking off in some areas. This was all the advantage Shroom needed - reaching out with its staff, Shroom summoned a series of spikes from the ground, impaling the monster before it had a chance to react. The fight was now three versus one, with the Party holding the obvious upper hand.

Jaran and Aldrava already had the final skum down to rights. Bleeding heavily and missing a tentacle, it was only a matter of time until the three finished it off. However, it didn’t give up - in fact, it seemed to fight more ferociously. The skum slammed a tentacle into Aldrava, sending her stumbling backwards, then headbutted Jaran.

As Shroom attacked it with its staff, the Skum, grabbed the trident of its fallen comrade off the ground with a tentacle and attempted to stab the Myconid. Shroom used its staff to deflect the blow, but couldn’t get one of his own in from his position.

It was Jaran who did, using the fact that the skum was distracted with Shroom to run the blade of his rapier across the monstrosity throat. Ink oozed out and the skum began to gurgle, before it collapsed in a heap.

Jaran ran his sleeve across his forehead to get the sweat off, then turned to Aldrava. “I think that does it.” He smiled.

“I wouldna be so sure.” Aldrava shook her head, “Skum are nah known fer dyin' easy.” With that, she walked over to the two corpses, stabbing her blade through each of their necks.

“So, what exactly are ‘skum’?” Jaran inquired, “And why does Dory have them at his command?”

“I dunno th' details, but I've read heard about them when I was wit' th' Marines.” Aldrava replied, “Terrible creatures. Humans 'n th' like, transformed by th' dark magic o' some monster from th' dark depths o' th' ocean.. This monster, it gains control o' thar minds as easy as ye or I would move a limb, then warps them into th' perfect minions. If Dory has skum, he be either workin' wit' or workin' fer some sort o' powerful entity.”

“Either way, I don’t like the look of this.” Jaran mused, “But I still have one question: What does such a powerful creature want with the Styes?”

“I dunno, landlubber. But I 'ave th' feelin' we be about t' find out.”

 

A narrow, rotting walkway with missing boards and no railing surrounded the rusting bulk of an ancient crane. The hull of the ship dangled from the crane’s arm, fifty feet above the broad mud pool below. A wooden trough connected the ship to a nearby water source. Steam rose from the hull, and rivulets of water spilt out between the planks of the hull, raining down to the mud below.

Two robed skum seemed surprised when Jaran, Aldrava, and Shroom exited the warehouse to the walkway. They had, of course, heard the fighting, but expected their comrades to do away with the intruders. They quickly discarded of their robes and began undulating down from the crane’s shed.

Shroom took fact that they were taken off guard to attack first, the familiar flame appearing on the tip of its staff. This time, Shroom launched it, and the fire snaked through the air, hitting the closest skum. Although it did very little damage due to the skum’s wet nature, it caused it to almost fall off the walkway before regaining itself.

“Remember, aim for the head and neck!” Jaran reminded Aldrava, before running forward. This time, when the skum reaches for him, he was ready, doding out of the way and landing a slash down its arm.

The second skum engaged Aldrava, attacking her first with its tentacle, and then with a trident. The tentacle she dodged, and the trident she blocked with her sword, before bringing her blade across the skum’s neck. It reared back, clutching at its neck and attempting to bash her with its tentacles - however, Aldrava was fast, and ducked under the attack.

Shroom once more held its staff, still embedded with the light runes, like a club, and lumbered forward. When it reached the first skum, it brought its staff across from the side, and when he hit it, a flash of light caused the skum to wobble closer to the edge. It grabbed onto the edge of the walkway with its tentacles, but it was no use, Jaran was already upon it, bringing his rapier down into its tentacle. This sufficiently weakened it to the point where it lost grip, and fell the fifty feet to the ground with a gurglish scream.

With one skum eliminated, the team focused on the second, but Aldrava seemed to have things under control. Already, the skum was undulating backwards, clutching at its neck, and missing a tentacle. With one final sweep or her sword, the skum’s head was separated from its body, which in turn collapsed to the ground dead.

Unfortunately, the battle was not over. The fighting had attracted three more skum, which emerged from below decks on the ship and started their unnatural progression towards the Party.

Jaran drew his flintlock, taking aim with his left and pulling the trigger. In a cloud of gunpowder, the bullet hit one of the skum in the shoulder, causing the inky blood to flow out across the ship’s deck. It was far from the killshot the rogue was hoping for, but it did damage. He re-holstered his pistol, switching his full attention to his sword.

These skum were all armed with tridents - a weapon which was becoming increasingly common as the battles went on. The skum Jaran had shot reached back and threw its trident at Aldrava, and the blade of the weapon dug into her leg. She screamed, cursing in pain: “Ye sorry, bilge-drinkin' scurvy dog!”

It was Shroom who came to her aide, walking over to the marine and extending its staff. A green aura came from the wood, snaking through the air and floating to the woman’s injury. The trident fell out as the injury, much to Aldrava and Jaran’s surprise, closed.

“Aye, thanks.” Aldrava smiled, but the relief was short lived - the skum were getting closer, and the three turned back to the battle.

As the skum crossed the gangplank between ship and warehouse, it became obvious that the terrain was going to play a role: Only one skum could cross the board at a time, unless the Party let them all across.

Jaran took point, throwing himself in to the first skum and slashing with his sword. His attack was blocked by the trident the skum carried, and the skum then whacked him with the metal rod of the trident. Jaran stumbled backwards as the steel made direct contact with his stomach. For a second, it looked like he would fall off the edge of the walkway, but he managed to regain himself.

This left Shroom and Aldrava closest to the skum, and they engaged. Aldrava drew her pistol, firing off a shot at the closest skum. It was a chest shot, and the as ‘blood’ oozed out of the skum’s body, Shroom followed up by smashing its staff across the aberration’s head.

The staff collided with the skum with an unnatural cracking sound, and the creature seemed to wobble back and forth before finally losing its balance and falling to its muddy death.

Jaran returned to battle, waiting for the second skum to draw close to the edge of the plank before he slashed it across the chest. The Skum counter-attacked, running it’s trident through Jaran’s shoulder, and he screamed out. Luckily, it was only his left shoulder, and he could still use his rapier. The rogue deflected another stab attempt from the trident, then stabbed his opponent in the chest.

Aldrava was re-loading her flintlock in the meantime - an activity that, although still took a bit of time, was sufficiently shorter due to her marine training. When the powder and ball were in place, she once more took aim and fired, this time aiming at the final, trident-less skum. Another thunderous bang filled the air, an the bullet found its mark: Right in the skum’s neck.

“Got ye, ye cur!” Aldrava exclaimed, as the skum began gurgling blood before falling over. Finally, it was three-versus-one, and none of the Party was going to let this chance go to waste.

Shroom and Jaran teamed up against the final skum, launching to powerful attacks at once. It made the mistake of blocking Jaran’s lighter hit and taking Shroom’s heavier one, and with another shattering sound, its ribes gave way.

As the final skum fell to its death, the runes faded away from Shroom’s staff, and Jaron let out a sigh of relief.

“Any more o' ye bastards wants t' fight us?” Aldrava yelled, but there was no response. At least for the moment, they’d gotten rid of all the skum.

 

The decrepit-looking hull of a ship was suspended from the crane by massive chains, all of which creaked and groaned ominously as the ship shifted in the wind. The only apparent access to the vessel’s interior was near the bow on the port side, where a grate in the hull belched smoke, water flowing along a wooden trough pouring through the grate into the hull.

Shroom was the first one across the ‘bridge’, followed by Jaran, and then finally Aldrava. Below their shifting weight, the boards creaked and bent slightly, threatening to give in. However, they didn’t - the Party made their way to the hatch without falling through.

“Whatever’s down there.” Jaran said, at last breaking the silence, “I want you to know it’s been a pleasure.”

“Aye.” Aldrava agreed, “Ye too, landlubber. 'n ye too, ye mute fungus.”

If Shroom was feeling the dread shared by its companions was uncertain, but it gave a nod of agreement to Aldrava’s statement.

With his piece said, Jaran jumped down into the hull of the ship.

 

The air in the compartment the three landed in was oppressively hot and humid. Clouds of smoke rose and escaped through the grate above, billowing from a pair of roaring boilers near the bow, bolted to the deck and walls on either side of a large pool of steaming water. The walls, floor, and ceiling of the compartment were thick and shiny with condensation and mildew.

There were no skum to be seen, at least in this part of the ship, but the groaning boards and constant, albeit slight, movement from side to side was enough to cause the hair on the back of the humans’ necks to stand up. His sword at the ready, Jaran lead the way through an opening that had once held a door into the next part of the ship.

 

The amidship was filled mostly by two pools of dark, swirling water. A narrow walkway between them reached between the stern and bow, and condensation streamed down the walls and dripped from the ceiling.

There were no immediate threats to be seen, and so the three continued, slowly and carefully, to the next doorway. It was obvious what this room was used for - housing skum. Luckily, they had taken out all the skum on their way down, and so it was now empty.

 

Finally, they reached Dory’s chamber, in the stern of the vessel. The air was thick with clouds of steam scented by perfume most likely bought from Jubal. Strange plants hung from the ceiling, featuring thick, twisted vines tangled around enormous bulbs and flowers of a sickly yellow hue. A large pool of steaming green water dominated the room.

A scarred desk with its legs sawed off was pulled up alongside the pool. The desktop was cluttered with damp parchment, a wicker platter of raw seafood, and a mahogany box.

Yet, there was no sign of Dory. There _was,_ however, a strange statue in the far corner, made from fish, monstrous lobsters, sharks, and octopi, and the head of a humanoid female.

“There’s no-one here…” Jaran pointed out the obvious, his voice a low whisper, “We came all this way, and there’s no one here!”

“Aye, but calm down.” Aldrava assured him, “Those skum we be protectin' somethin'. Whatever 'tis, we jus' 'ave t' find it.”

Jaran nodded. She was right, there would be no reason to send a number of one’s most powerful minions to a site without something worth protecting. As the three prepared to investigate, a figure appeared in the corner of the room, having previously been cloaked by Invisibility. This figure was halfway between man and skum, his skin taut and translucent, his hair falling out, and blood and some odd inky substance leaking from his orifices. It was clear who this was, just from appearance alone.

“Don’t you… understand..?” Dory asked, his voice guttural and his speech patterns unnatural, “You… already lost. The Whisperer… shall not… be denied. He already has a… hold over… this city… and soon… the world…”

“Shove it up yer arse, Dory.” Aldrava replied.

“No… you…” Dory began again, “...all efforts… meaningless… The Messiah of Chaos… will rise… two weeks time… no stopping it...”

As Dory continued speaking, his voice only got more distorted, until he was nigh impossible to understand. Finally, he concluded, once again returning to normal,“I am… blessed by... him… your voyage stops… here.”

Just as the three were preparing to engage Dory, a low gurgling sound came from the statue, which then began to slowly lumber forwards towards them.

“Gangway!” Aldrava warned, unhelpfully, “A golem!”

It was obvious to the Party that the golem was the bigger threat, and so they focused on it first. Jaran drew his gun and fired. Unfortunately, the trident injury to his left arm caused him to lose control of the recoil and the bullet was a total miss - it embedded into the wall a few feet from its target.

Aldrava fired next - her bullet was a direct hit into the Golem’s chest. Seashells and barnacles shattered, but the golem didn’t bleed or stumble back, instead continuing its advance.

As Shroom raised its staff to perform a spell, Dory fumbled for a spellbook hanging from his hip. He opened it, flipping through, then read out an arcane chant, performing a spell of his own. Blood leaked out of Dory’s eye, accompanied by a red glow, and soon a red aura snaked through the air from the councillor’s eye, surrounding Shroom.

Shroom cringed in pain as some of the fungus-like growths coming out of it withered away.

“Should 'ave known he had somethin' necrotic up his sleeve.”  Aldrava observed, as Shroom’s spell was cancelled out.

With Shroom’s spell a dud, it was up to Jaran and Aldrava to attack - and neither had time to reload their guns. Instead, Jaran charged at the golem and performed a rarther straightforward  maneuver. He slashed at the massive creature, taking a few more barnacles off. When it counter-attacked, Jaran tried to roll out of the way, but he was too slow - the golem’s tentacle arm smashed into the rogue, sending him flying a few feet and landing on his back.

This was all the opportunity Dory needed. He flipped a few more pages in his spell book, read another spell, and extended his hand. His hand caught fire in a similar manner to Shroom’s staff, and he made a motion like pitching a baseball. The fire flew off his hand, shooting towards Jaran.

Jaran attempted to scramble to his feet, but his injured left arm prevented him from doing quickly. Luckily, Dory wasn’t a master of aiming his spells like the Myconid, and the fireball hit the ground a few feet from him. The wet and slimy ground didn’t go up in flames, but for a second, the fire pooled outward - enough to get Jaran in its grasp.

“FUCK!” Jaran finally got to his feet, his clothes slightly singed, but otherwise fine. He picked up his rapier, as Aldrava attacked next, managing to get a good slice into the golem’s tentacle.

Finally, it was Shroom’s chance to attack again. Even though a black smoke emitted from its body, it was no longer in pain, and it tossed its staff away, extending its hand. In a flash of fire, a scimitar of pure flame appeared in the Myconid’s hand, and he lumbered at the sea monstrosity, ready to slice it to pieces.

The golem targeted Aldrava first, swinging its uninjured arm at her. This arm was a large lobster or crab claw, and although Aldrava blocked with her sword, the shell prevented the arm from being injured by hitting the blade.

Dory flipped a few more pages in his spellbook and performed a new spell, this time a yellow aura snaking out of his hand. The aura mixed with the smoke in the room to create a large, noxious-smelling could of what one could assume was poison.

Meanwhile, Aldrava continued her attack. She had been pushed back a few feet by the claw hitting her sword, and so closed the distance again, bringing her sword down for an aimed strike at the legs. The golem used its claw-arm to deflect the blow, then proceeded try and grab her. She had better luck evading it than Jaran - in part due to the fact that the claw was much less mobile than the tentacle - and got out of the way.

Shroom finally reached its target of the golem and hoped to use the fact that it was distracted with Aldrava to get off a strike at its body. It worked - the flame blade hit the chest area, but the golem seemed unphased - it was too wet for the flames to work on it. Instead, it smashed Shroom with its tentacle arm, sending it stumbling backwards a few yards into the noxious cloud in the centre of the room.

A horrible sizzling sound came from Shroom as it came in contact with the cloud, and its fungal growths all withered and died. Quickly, Shroom moved out of the smoke, but damage had already been done, it was clearly feeling weak by how it held itself.

“SHROOM!” Jaran yelled, “Are you alright?” Of course, Shroom didn’t respond verbally, but rather shook its head no. Things were looking dire.

Shroom pointed to Jaran and then to Dory. Even without words, the message was clear: They needed someone to focus on the spellcaster of the two opponents. Rapier in hand, Jaran altered his location to move closer to Dory.

It wasn’t a particularly stealthy move, and Dory saw it coming. Without even flipping through or looking at his spellbook, Dory performed a gesture with his hand and muttered some words. Immediately, Jaran felt his flight or fight reaction kick in, and it was leaning towards flight. He began to sweat, his heart beat faster, and his breathing became heavier, all as adrenaline pumped through his veins.

The rogue had to do everything in his power to remind himself this was the effect of a dark spell and not to flee in sheer terror. Luckily, he was able to overpower it, and with clammy hands, he brought his sword towards Dory.

Dory dropped his spellbook, quickly drawing a rapier of his own and parrying the blow. As Aldrava and Shroom kept the golem at bay, Jaran began dueling the fish-man.

“Engarde!” Jaran yelled. Fencing takes on a rhythm, and Jaran knew that to try and successfully defend against him, Dory would have to figure his out. He started with a sharp, controlled blow to the middle of Dory’s blade, in the hopes of provoking a reaction. He got his reaction, and followed up by winding up for what appeared to be a lunge - but instead of continuing with his rhythm, he brought his foot down, not following through with the lunge.

Dory fell for Jaran’s trick; he reacted in time with the now-broken rhythm. His reaction to the fake lunge left him open, and Jaran wasn’t going to miss his chance. The rogue launched an unexpected attack, bringing his blade forward and stabbing Dory in the chest.

It wasn’t a hard stab, but an inky, black substance similar to the ‘blood’ of the skum began to soak Dory’s councillor’s robe. Jaran smirked, but his smirk didn’t last long. With his free hand, Dory performed a gesture, muttering a magical incantation. A fireball shot of of Dory’s free hand, hitting Jaran before he had time to dodge.

Jaran flew backwards a few feet, his clothes catching fire. He dropped to the ground, rolling until they were out, then jumped back to his feet, ready to engage again and hoping Dory didn’t have any more fireballs prepared.

Aldrava and Shroom, meanwhile, were engaged with the golem. With his flame sword not working and his staff discarded, Shroom had one weapon left: itself. Although Myconids were not particularly fast, they _were_ strong, and Shroom had a firm hold on the claw part of the lobster arm, while Aldrava attacked from the other side.

With a final pull and a horrible snapping sound, Shroom dislocated the ‘finger’ of the claw from the base, rendering it useless for attack. Finally, it could safely get closer - and it did. It approached, shoving the golem back then punching it across the face. The golem tried to counter-attack with a smash of its tentacle, but Aldrava had that covered; she brought her sword across the tentacle, cutting hard and deep.

The golem could hardly be considered alive, so it did not rear back in pain or scream; thus, no opening was made for another attack, but the two made do. With the tentacle injured and the claw broken, the golem was losing its offensive capability. Shroom charged forward, grappling the golem and headbutting its chest with its toadstool-style head.

Jaran continued his duel with Dory. Although another farce wasn’t going to work, he had a good read. The rogue let Dory move onto the offensive, hoping that would give him confidence and avoid another fireball. Jaran waited, blocking attack after attack, until Dory made a mistake. Jaran thrusted along the four-line, and Dory tried to parry, expecting another attack. Instead of attacking, though, Jaran counter-parried, bringing the blades back to their starting position, then passed his blade around his opponent’s tip, before pulling his weapon up and over.

Jaran acted in right time and with proper distance, never giving up right-of-way. As such, he was in perfect position to finish his movement with a slash across Dory’s body. Dory bled more and stepped backward, moving his blade backwards for a second, before lunging at his opponent. This caught Jaran off guard, and although he brought his blade across, his confidence wavered, allowing for a stop hit; Dory managed to block and still have time to bring his blade across Jaran’s torso.

“FUCK!” Jaran yelled, bringing his free hand to his chest to check for blood. Sure enough, when he looked down, his hand was stained red - the stop hit had been a success. “That’s the last clean hit you’re getting..” The rogue promised, gritting his teeth before pulling back to his en garde.

With Dory’s focus on Jaran instead of maintaining his magic, the yellow cloud of poison faded, re-opening the field of play. They didn’t need it, however. In an incredible display of strength, Shroom lifted the golem into the air, then performed a bridging, slamming its opponent against the ground head-first. The slam was sufficient; seashells, barnacles, and parts of sea creatures were sent flying everywhere as the golem’s torso shattered against the ground.

Shroom got to its feet, turning to aid Jaran, but it seemed he didn’t need it. Just seeing the three figures convene on his location caused a look of fear to cross Dory’s face.

Dory being distracted by Shroom and Aldrava was all the opportunity Jaran needed. In a single motion, the rogue disarmed his opponent, then held his blade against the fish-man’s neck. “No sudden moves.” he warned, “And don’t even look at your spellbook.”

“Mer… cy…” Dory begged, and Jaran smirked.

“Get on yer knees, Dory.” Aldrava  ordered, “I 'ave some riddles 'n ye're goin' t' answer them.”

Dory obeyed, slowly getting down, Jaran moving his sword down as well to keep it level with the councillor’s neck.

Shroom, however, seemed to have other plans. While Aldrava stopped a short distance behind Jaran to begin the questioning, the Myconid approached Dory, wrapping its fungal hands around Dory’s head and beginning to apply pressure.

“ME… RCY!” Dory begged, “I… will tell you… every… thing..!”

“Well then ye better get natterin'.” Aldrava observed, “'cause Shroom looks ready t' crush yer skull.”

“Start with the Lantern Ghost Murders.” Jaran cut right to the chase, “Was Jarme Lovage the murderer?”

“He was… but a... pawn.” Dory explained, “His mind… seized… the murderers performed… to create… panic…”

“Why? Why do you want to create panic?” Jaran raised an eyebrow, “Wouldn’t an orderly city be easier for you to run?”

“Not me…” Dory tried to shake his head, but Shroom’s firm grasp prevented it, “A cult… of Tharizdun is… thriving… in the city... They have made… an alliance with… a monster… they are incubating… a Messiah… a spawn off… their dark god… it feeds… off… fear and misery... “

“Tharizdun as in the God of Chaos?” Jaran continued the interrogation.

“Yes... “ Dory affirmed, “Their messiah will be grown… in three weeks… you cannot stop… it.”

“So ye say.” Aldrava shook her head, “Jus' a few minutes ago ye said we couldn't stop ye. Look how that turned out.”

“No…” Dory began squirming under the continued pressure of Shroom’s hands, “the Messiah is… a monster… I am nothing… in comparison to… it. You cannot… stop it.”

“And where is this ‘messiah’ located?” Jaran asked the first question that came to mind. Before Dory could respond, the pressure became too great - Shroom’s fingers, pressed forcefully on Dory’s eyes, caused them to burst. Blood splattered over the Myconid, Dory screamed in pain, and both humans recoiled in shock.

Luckily, Shroom seemed to have achieved its goal - it released the now-blind Dory and stepped back behind Jaran.

“Well that's an image I be goin' t' needs quite a few drinks t' forget.” Was all Aldrava could think of to say. For once Jaran’s words failed him, and he simply nodded.

 

As Dory screamed and clutched at his newly-emptied eye sockets, the three searched his quarters. The councillor was as disturbed in his nature as he was in appearance - they found quite a few soggy pieces of parchment containing unsettling tales of erotica penned by the fish-man. Between these was a few letters from the Cult of Tharizdun explaining the process of ‘transformation’ that came with Tharizdun’s favour. No doubt, this was the true cause of Dory’s warped appearance.

There were also a number of ledgers and other documents implicating Dory in a series of crimes and mad drawings of a tentacled monster consuming the Styes, in similar fashion to that they had seen on the asylum wall. Finally, there was a prayer book to Tharizdun, with the message ‘Seek the pulpit in the sunset shadow of Frother’s Lamp.’ scrawled on the inside of the front cover.

All these were presented to Councillor Thornwell upon the Party’s return to Thornwell Tower, and she identified to them Forther’s Lamp as the name of the Styes’ long-abandon lighthouse.

All was looking like it pointed to them fighting the ‘messiah’, until Aldrava looked out the window and saw the sun was setting. “We best be gettin' back t' th' _Glory_.” She pointed out, “She be leavin' soon.”

This gave Jaran pause. On one hand, they had a city to save. On the other, he had a time-sensitive task in Saltmarsh, and he doubted there were any ships leaving later that night. However, the pause only lasted a minute.

“No.” Jaran shook his head, “We have to stop this messiah creature. Whatever it is, whatever it can do, it’s not going to be good, and this is our only shot.”

“If ye had said that earlier this mornin', I would nah 'ave agreed, landlubber.” Aldrava began, “But ye know wha'? I be in. I doubt th' so-called Messiah will be satisfied wit' stayin' in th' Styes. Saltmarsh, Waterdeep, all th' coast be in danger if that thin' matures.”

“Good.” Thornwell nodded in agreement, “I’ll make sure Dory is arrested, wherever he is. I don’t doubt his minions have rescued him from that ship. You two- three, focus on this ‘messiah’. May the gods and goddesses smile upon you.”


	5. The Lamp's Shadow

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Now aware Dory was only the beginning of the evil that haunts the Styes, the Party heads to a dark temple to find the so-called "Messiah" and hopefully send it back to whatever layer of the Abyss it crawled out of.

And so, as the sun prepared to set over the horizon, the Party arrived outside Forther’s Lamp. This decommissioned stone lighthouse was once a proud beacon welcoming ships, but it functioned in the present as nothing more than a sad, flotsam landmark. After a few more decades of slowly sinking into the soggy seabed, it would have ended up consumed by shanties and other buildings built atop its corpse.

As the sun set, the shadow of the lighthouse fell over a structure cobbled together from a partially sunken galley and some empty apartments under an abandoned pleasure pier. No doubt, this was the Temple of Tharizdun.

 

The area leading to the temple was a tangled wall of apartments and storefronts, rising up on either side of a channel of sluggish, tainted water. The structures down near the waterline were empty and desolate, while the ramshackle additions built over their roofs appeared progressively more inhabitable as they rose up into the polluted sky. The overall effect was that of a canyon, with walls made from the cross-section of a decaying shantytown rather than from stone.

Water sloshed against the side of this canyon, the only light not from the ambient light pollution of the Styes coming from the now-familiar flame that burnt on the tip of Shroom’s staff. In front of the Party, A narrow timber bridge sagged across the channel, leading from the back of a crooked alley to what appeared to be a partially sunken galley whose structure had been incorporated into the ruined jumble of buildings. As they crossed the bridge, they kept their eyes open for any sign of trouble, but none presented itself.

 

The main deck of the ruined galley had buckled, and was cluttered with trash, driftwood, and other refuse washed up on the tide. To the east, the galley’s prow jutted into the channel like a jagged fang, while the west side of the deck disappeared into a wall of boarded-up and badly weathered buildings. The only cleared pathway across the tilted deck lead from the bridge to a pair of massive wooden doors that lead into the buildings.

Nobody dared speak a word as they approached the doors, and Jaran made as little a sound as possible picking the lock. It was clear what they were all feeling, though: dread. Whatever dark forces had seized the Styes, they were about to encounter up close and personal.

Of course, they had been healed. Councillor Thornwell had one of her mages close their injuries and restore their stamina with healing magic - but one question still lingered in their minds: would that be enough? Or were Dory’s warnings correct, that nothing could stand up to this ‘messiah of Tharizdun’?

 

Through the doors was a hallway. This oppressive hallway reeked of mildew and rotting .fish The walls were severely stained, and the ceiling sagged where pockets of water and fungus weighed it down. The sounds of creaking wood and dripping water echoed loudly here.

Once again, there were no visible threats in the room, so the Party continued on. However, just because they couldn’t be seen didn’t mean they didn’t exist. They were about halfway through when the floor started to tremble and creak underneath them. Before they were even fully aware they were under attack, a creatures resembling an oversized crustacean had shot up through the floor.

“It’s a  Chuul!” Aldrava exclaimed. The Party’s weapons were already drawn, and so they would be ready if not taken off guard.

Just like ‘skum’, the world ‘Chuul’ made no sense to Jaran. Still, he didn’t need a history lesson to understand that an over glorified lobster coming up through the floorboards meant danger. He brandished his flintlock, taking aim with his left hand before firing.

Unlike against Dory, the shot was a direct hit into the Chuul’s chest. Cracks appeared in its shell as the bullet pierced, and blue blood oozed out.

Aldrava did the same, drawing her pistol and firing. The shot hit the Chuul in the leg, almost knocking it off.

Both humans put their guns away and charged with their swords, as Shroom raised its staff and summoned sea vines from the floor to restrain the Chuul. Restrained, the Chuul made an easy target - Jaran got off two well-aimed slices against the creature’s chest and Aldrava one slice against its already injured leg. All three attacks, however, did little more than make a _clunk_ sound and bounce off the Chuul’s thick shell.

Finally, the Chull broke free from the seaweed and attacked. First, it tossed Jaran aside with its thick arm, then grabbed Aldrava with its claw. Much like Jaran had done when restricted by skum, Aldrava struggled against the grasp, but it did no good.

Jaran took the fact that the Chuul was distracted with Aldrava to reload his pistol - taking out a ball, black powder, and ramrod and using the three as quickly as possible. Meanwhile, Shroom moved forward, smashing the Chuul with its staff, and keeping it too distracted to put too much pressure on Aldrava.

Finally, Jaran’s flintlock was loaded, albeit slightly haphazardly, and he got up, taking aim and firing. With a BANG! and a cloud of gunpowder, the third bullet hit the Chuul in the shoulder, causing it to drop Aldrava, who, despite landing on her back, quickly scrambled to her feet and put distance between herself and the aberration.

“We needs a new plan.” She observed, “Cutlasses aren't doin' th' job.”

As Jaran looked the scene over for a new strategy, Shroom continued its engagement. The Chuul based the Myconid with its claw, but he took the hit well, only taking a single step back.

“The ceiling!” Jaran exclaimed at last.

“Aye!” Aldrava nodded, “Shroom, get back here!”

Shroom obeyed, distancing itself from the Chuul, and looking to Aldrava and Jaran for their plan. Jaran pointed to Shroom, then to the ceiling, and Shroom nodded, raising its staff. A fireball came out of it, aimed not at the enemy, but at the roof above the enemy.

Although the roof did not go up in flames due to waterlogging, the fireball did exactly as Jaran had hoped: the already weak and rotting ceiling couldn’t take the impact of the fireball, and gave way, sending not just the roof, but a mast from the galleon’s deck above them crashing down on the Chuul.

With a horrifying _crack_ , the Chuul’s shell split open, and its fleshy insides were crushed.

“So.” Jaran turned to his companion, “What horrible sea abomination was that?”

“That be a Chuul.” Aldrava responded,  “How much do ye know about aboleth?”

“Nothing.” Jaran admitted.

“Horrible, giant sea monsters from th' darkest depths. Like t' fancy themselves as gods. They used t' be gods, more or less. Ruled th' world like them, at least 'til th' real gods revealed themselves. A giant war broke out, 'n th' gods found them nigh-on an equal foe.”

“What does this have to do with Chuul?”

“I be gettin' t' that, landlubber. Th' Chuul were thar servants. Normal crustaceans, warped by th' aboleth back when they ruled. Now, they seek out thar former masters t' serve them.”

“So, this Messiah…”

“Be an aboleth, by th' looks o' thin's, aye. But that's strange. From wha' I've read, th' aboleth 'ave ne'er forgotten th' gods made them fall from power. Hate them t' th' ends o' th' Planes 'n back. So why one would be workin' wit' Tharizdun, let alone servin' as its Messiah... that eludes me.”

“Well, I believe we’re about to find out.”

 

Behind the next door, a cavernous room smelled of decaying fish and seaweed. The walls, floor, and ceiling were covered with carvings of complex spirals and smeared with blood. Crude chairs and benches were arranged in a semicircle facing a smaller antechamber to the west. A large, fish-like shape hung in the air at the far end of the alcove.

The Party entered carefully, and approached the antechamber. There, they found a wide flight of slippery stairs standing at the end, leading down into a pool of slimy, murky water. The shape above the stairs was a rotting shark’s carcass, which hung from the rafters on frayed, mildewed ropes. Humanoid heads in various states of decay had been crudely lashed to the shark’s flanks.

The three paused, staring at the water across from them for a few moments, Suddenly, it began to move, as a shadowed, humanoid figure walked up the stairs. The three prepared their weapons, but when they saw who it was, they couldn’t help but pause.

“Juke?!” Jaron and Aldrava exclaimed.

“Welcome.” Juke responded, “To the temple. _My_ temple, now, I guess. The Messiah is dead.”

“What the _fuck_ is going on?!” Jaran adjusted his grip on his rapier, but he showed no sign of being ready to swing it.

“Ah, yes. Questions.” Juke chuckled, folding her hands in front of her, “I’m sure you have plenty, and we have plenty of time to discuss them. After all, you’ll need all the details if you plan to turn this encounter into a play, won’t you, Jaran?”

“I- I don’t- uh-” Jaran sought desperately for words, but Juke seemed to understand.

“It’s okay.” Juke gazed Jaran up and down, “That’s your motivation for all this, is it not? Listening to the old man ramble, going to the asylum, visiting me, even fighting Dory. All for inspiration. To entertain the nobles of Bellmoral, and be more than a one-hit wonder. After all, it’s not like you plan on staying in the Thieves’ Guild forever.”

“Juke, wha' in th' Gods' name are ye-” Aldrava started, but Juke cut her off.

“And Aldrava. Capitan Aldrava . Aldrava the Pirate. Such a pleasure to finally, _truly_ meet you.” Juke smiled a sinister smile, revealing a pair of fangs, “You deserted the marines in the name of freedom to do as you please, but a pirate’s life just wasn’t good for someone as noble as you. Someone who believes in the greater good. Someone who yearns to make a positive difference… well… you did. You defeated Dory, and I’m sure Jaran will write you a good role. But, you need progress no further. The Messiah, as I mentioned, is dead.”

Juke began walking through the room, stopping only when she was in front of Shroom. “And you. ‘Shroom’... or was it ‘Spore’? That’s what _she_ called you, after all. Before you abandon her to her own devices to save yourself. I see it all: Rage, hate… regret. You have no mouth and you must to scream. And you thought - no, you hoped - doing the right thing this time would vindicate you. But no, Spore… your grief still tastes like guilt.”

Juke leaned over, and Shroom seemed too stunned to move as the ‘constable’ kissed where his cheek would be. Finally, her rounds done, she walked back to the pit of water, standing before it.

“Now, I’m sure that raised a _lot_ of questions.” Juke began again, “Let’s start with me, though. Since I already know so much about you. My name is Sgothgah, and I am… well, I’m not of your world. I came here long ago, and I did many things, all of it’s really boring. Not like _your_ lives. No, those are interesting, albeit very, _very_ short, all things considered. I created the Cult of Tharizdun here, but not to serve Tharizdun. No, to serve me. Unfortunately, the Cultists discovered a creature they believed to be their Messiah.”

“At first, I thought this could be useful. After all, they didn’t know who I was, and running things from the background is _oh so difficult_ , but… well, the Messiah got feisty. So I killed it.”

“I don’t know what the _fuck_ is going on right now,” Jaran gritted his teeth, “But I don’t believe a word you’re saying.”

“Aye.” Aldrava agreed, “Jus' 'cause ye did a background check on us doesn't make ye a god.”

“Of course you don’t.” Juke shrugged, “Don’t worry, I was expecting this - I’m not offended. That’s why I left this precious ‘messiah’’s corpse for you to see with your own eyes.”

Juke walked to a crate, opening it and taking out three vials of light blue liquid. “Here, water breathing potions. So you can come see it yourself.”

Jaran paused. Despite himself, he felt the burning need to know more. His better judgement screamed at him not to take a step forward, not to drink the liquid in those vials, to leave and never speak of this place again… but, he did.

 

“JARAN! NO!” Aldrava yelled, as her friend and companion approached the edge of the water. However, it was too late. The image of Constable Jute that had been projected into all their minds faded, and a massive, multi-tentacled beast emerged from the water, grabbing Jaran with one of its limbs as soon as he was in range.

It had all been a trick, of course. Juke was just a constable, an image pulled up from their minds to add an air of familiarity to the deception. The aboleth squeezed the rogue, and although he struggled, it began to pull him under.

Shroom was quick to act, raising its staff and casting a spell: A wave of lightning shot from the mighty oak staff, aimed not at the aboleth itself, but the water in which it resided.

Although Jaran was caught in the crossfire - the electricity running through the water to the aboleth’s wet body, and then to Jaran’s. Still, he was mostly uninjured when he fell to the floor and scrambled to his feet.

Aldrava ran forward, using her sword to slice the tentacles aside, away from Jaran, and the two made a hasty retreat to the far side of the room. The aboleth wasn’t amphibious, it needed to stay in the water, and thus couldn’t get much reach to grab them so long as they kept their distance.

“I’m… sorry.” Jaran apologized, “It just all seemed so real…”

“Aye, 'tis okay.” Aldrava assured him, “Deception be wha' these beasts do best. Thar will be time fer me t' mock ye about this later. Fer now, we 'ave a sea monster t' deal wit'.”

Jaran drew his flintlock, taking aim and firing. However, when he pulled the trigger, nothing happened - he had forgotten to reload after the battle with the Chuul.

Sᴘᴀʀᴇ ʏᴏᴜʀsᴇʟғ ᴛʜᴇ ᴇғғᴏʀᴛ. Came a voice in the three’s heads, Tʜᴇ Mᴇssɪᴀʜ ᴛʜʀɪᴠᴇs.

“I knew it!” Aldrava yelled “How much o' yer wee soliloquy that was bullshit?!”

Iᴛ ᴡᴀs ᴀʟʟ ᴀ ᴛʀɪᴄᴋ. The aboleth’s voice seemed to take on an air of smugness, I ᴅᴇᴄᴇɪᴠᴇᴅ ʏᴏᴜ. Bᴜᴛ ɪᴛ ɪs ɪɴᴄᴏɴsᴇǫᴜᴇɴᴛɪᴀʟ, ᴀs ʏᴏᴜ sʜᴀʟʟ sᴏᴏɴ ғᴇᴇᴅ ᴛʜᴇ Mᴇssɪᴀʜ.

“I’ve heard enough.” Jaran gritted his teeth. He seemed to be taking this the hardest, and not without reason. He was the one who had fallen for the whole trick, who had approached the pool. “So, what’s the plan?”

“Aim fer th' tentacles.” the former marine responded, “'n don't let them grab ye.”

Jaran nodded, then readied his rapier. “Shroom, cover us.” He ordered, and once he was sure the Myconid was ready to cast its spells, he charged in, followed soon after by Aldrava.

Jaran rolled under the first tentacle to try and knock him back, slicing at it from the underside. As Aldrava knocked another tentacle aside before it could hit him, Jaran brought his sword across a third tentacle. Shroom, in the background, raised its staff, and a fireball shot out. The aboleth was so distracted with the two humans, it had left itself wide open, and the fireball hit it square in the face. Of course, it didn’t do much - the aboleth was wet, and so fire was not the most effective weapon - but it still hurt.

Sgothgah (if that was even its real name) wasn’t going to make that mistake again. It moved to a more defensive position in the water, but continued trying to grab and smash the two humans before it.

In his free hand, Jaran drew one of the knives hidden across his outfit, and held it with the blade down. When a tentacle came close to him, he dug the knife into it, the drew it out, leaving behind a large gash with leaked an odd, purple blood.

Aldrava did not have as much luck. A tentacle got her from behind, sending her flying across the antechamber into a wall. She quickly got to her feet, grabbing her sword off the ground - but this was all the chance Sgothgah needed.

The aboleth reached out with its magic, and the water surged out of the pit in a mighty wave, washing over the two. Jaran managed to maintain his balance, but Aldrava was already getting to her feet - the wave’s receding force pulled her closer to Sgothgah, who used this chance to grab her with a slimy appendage.

Aldrava screamed, trying desperately to grab onto whatever she could. It did no good, and soon she was being dangled in the air above the mighty sea monster. Shroom was quick to cast his lightning spell again, sending an electrical impulse towards Sgothgah, but the creature was ready. Although it twitched and spasmed, it didn’t let go, instead pulling the former marine under the water.

Now it was Jaran’s turn to yell out in alarm: “ALDRAVA!” The rogue quickly did off with his shoes and shrugged off his jacket, slashing a tentacle aside as he ran to the water, then ran down the steps, diving in.

 

Water, especially when warm, was supposed to create a soothing sensation. But this liquid, as it lapped against Jaran’s skin, felt dirty. More than that, it made him feel dirty. It felt like raw filth was grating on his skin, seeping into his bloodstream, and infecting him. Still, he pressed on.

Even through the murkiness of this water, the aboleth was visible, even if only in the form of a vague silhouette. Jaran’s eyes followed this silhouette as it turned from a split fishtail into a fish body, then finally into tentacles sprawling through the water out in all directions. Without going under the water, Sgothgah couldn’t see him, but still the tentacles fumbled for his figure, and considerable effort was put forth for Jaran to swim around and between them.

Finally, the rogue reached it: the tentacle containing Aldrava. No bubbles were coming out of the ex-marine’s mouth, Jaran could only pray to the gods that he was in time. First, he tried pulling her out of the aboleth‘s grasp, but the tentacle proved too tight around her, so he drew his knife and attempted to cut her loose.

This gave his location away. No sooner had his knife sunk into Sgothgah’s slimy flesh than one of its tentacles reached over, wrapping around the rogue. Jaran resisted the urge to scream as the appendage pulled him away from Aldrava, downwards. He struggled and fought, but it did no good. The hold was too tight.

Although he held out for as long as he could, Jaran eventually couldn’t hold his breath any longer. He instinctively opened his mouth, and as water rushed in to replace the air and his vision started blacking out, Jaran prepared to meet the gods.


	6. Tharizdun’s Progeny

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The location of the Messiah of Tharizdun has been revealed, and our heroes must stop it if they wish to save not just the Styes, but the entirety of the continent's coast.

Aldrava awoke with a gasp, and immediately was thrown into a coughing fit. She felt the filthy liquid that passed for water in an aboleth’s lair exit her lungs, one horrid gasp at a time.

Finally, it was all out, but she couldn’t find the energy to sit up, or even open her eyes and see what the situation around her was. Judging by the ambient noise, she was still in the Temple of Tharizdun, but there was no rapidly splashing water or voices in her head - so Sgothgah was either dead or had retreated. Thank the gods for that.

The ex-marine could still feel the sensation of the water on her skin. She could still feel the drowning, the pulling, the inky, oozing liquid surround her. For a second, she had to remind herself she was safe.

Finally, she opened her eyes, and the first thing she was was Shroom’s glowing ‘eyes’ staring back. Although it was impossible to find emotion in two orbs and no mouth, she somehow felt it was concerned. Clearly it had saved her - someone had to drag her out of that abyss.

Then, in a wave that hauntingly reminded her of the one that had pulled her under, the memories of what she had seen while unconscious all came back to her. Visions. Visions of a monster, incubated by negative emotions drawn to it by a spire, rising from the sea to destroy the Styes, then moving on to other coastal cities. Even the Keoland Royal Navy wasn’t able to slow it down when it came for their coast.

“Listen, Shroom.” Aldrava began, slowly moving to a sitting position, “We be nah done yet. Get th' landlubber, thar's still somethin' we 'ave t' do.”

Shroom, for the first time, paused. Then, finally, it motioned with its free hand over towards the edge of the pool where Sgothgah had once resided. There lay Jaran, washed up on the side of the pool in a pile of detritus.

“JARAN!” Aldrava got clumsily to her feet, unsteadily making her way over to the pool and pressing her ear to his chest. He wasn’t breathing, and so the ex-marine began applying rapid bursts of pressure to his chest, broken only to press her lips to his and breathe into his mouth.

“Come on, Jaran!” Aldrava begged, continuing her presses, “Don't ye give up on me yet!”

After a few more minutes of trying, Aldrava remembered Shroom was there. The same Shroom who had closed her injury after a trident hit in. She hadn’t even realized she was crying, but it was between sobs that she ordered Shroom, “Don't jus' stand thar, ye must bastard! Use yer magic!”

Shroom did not comply. There was no point using healing magic on a man long dead.

 

The walk from the temple and was made in silence, Shroom as mute as ever and Aldrava having nothing to say. Of course, she and Jaran had both known they might not walk out of this adventure alive, but those thoughts were of little comfort to the ex-marine. She had always felt - and, no doubt, Jaran had felt - that death, even in a city like the Styes and on a task as perilous as this one, was for others. For the unfortunate, for the unskilled, and they had considered themselves neither.

When the two reached Thornwell Tower, it was raining. Not that it mattered to Aldrava, she was already soaked from her plunge into the depths. They were ushered inside, and promptly told that Councillor Thornwell was asleep. They would have to wait until morning to speak with her, but were offered room in the tower.

Neither of the two slept that night. Shroom, it was possible, photosynthesized, as he showed no sign of needing sleep. Aldrava, on the other hand, was afraid of what horrid dreams dozing off might bring her. Finally, the sun rose, and they greeted the dawn.

 

Aldrava informed Thornwell about her visions, and in turn, Thornwell identified the location they were pointing to. A spire rising out of the ocean near the Styes could only point to one place: a location called Landgrave’s Folly.

When the Styes was still the glorious Island of Pleasure, Thornwell explained, a noble named Bryson Landgrave had come to the conclusion that he could rescue his dead wife from the Abyss by digging a hole to the planet’s core. He believed this is where the Abyss was located, and although the inhabitants of the Island of Pleasure dismissed him as mad, few could dismiss ten silver pieces a day - and so, Landgrave’s wife having taken her last breath only a week earlier, the excavation of a massive hole began on an island just a mile west of the Styes.

At first, everything had went as planned, but then, workers started to perish under increasingly odd circumstances. Believing his excavation was cursed, Landgrave searched for a reason, and found an dwarven legend stating anyone who mines without offering sacrifice to the dwarven god of mining was doomed.

Landgrave was convinced he’d found the solution to his woes, and ordered the excavated minerals be used to build a massive temple, which in turn would be used to offer the sacrifice. Such was done, as once again he was paying good money, but on the night before the temple was to be consecrated, the wall between hole and ocean collapsed. The excavation, the temple, all the miners, and Landgrave himself were killed, leaving only the spire of the temple above water - a potent reminder to all fools who would consider themselves able to play on par with the gods.

“A massive underwater pit, an abandoned temple, and a tower like in your visions.” Thornwell concluded, “That’s the only place it could be.”

“Aye, I 'ave t' agree.” Aldrava nodded, “But two problems still remain: “First, how do we reach this underwater pit, 'n second, how do we scuttle th' messiah?”

“I have a solution to both.” the councillor informed her, “First, I will have my court alchemist brew you up two amphibious breathing potions, and second… I have in my possession a powerful magical artefact: the sword of my ancestor, Venkulm Thornwell. It’s a powerful weapon, it kills anything when it touches their heart. Be warned, it only does this once every century, but I believe saving this city is a noble enough cause to take it out of the vault.”

 

Two hours after sunrise, a lone boat approached Landgrave’s Folly. Very few were brave enough to travel in this area of the sea - the ‘Curse of Landgrave’ was a strong superstition amongst the fishermen and traders of the Styes - causing Aldrava to have significant trouble finding one who would take them.

In the end, she found a fisherman who was not afraid, an elf named Cailee Enzorwyn. When they finally approached the Folly, Aldrava knew immediately it was the place she had seen. Below the water loomed the dark bulk of a sunken temple. Coming up and out of the briny murk was the temple’s spire, which appeared to have been struck by more than one unfortunate ship, judging by the chunks missing from it.

“Aye, Shroom.” Aldrava affirmed, “'tis it. Capitan, brin' us as close t' th' spire as ye can!”

As the ship slowly made its approach, the ex-marine couldn’t help but turn to her remaining companion. "Ye know, 'tis funny.” she began, “All me life, I've been tryin' t' be free. As a sprog, I was expected t' be either a housewife like me mum, or a fisherman like me dad. I became a marine t' try 'n chart me owns destiny... But marines aren't free, so I deserted, became a pirate. Still nah free enough, wit' a cap'n 'n all that, so I left me crew 'n became a mercenary. Still, didn' like th' guild, so I became an adventurer. Now, here I be, nobody can tell me wha' t' do... but I be shackled by duty, or destiny, or somethin' like that.”

Aldrava adjusted her grip on Venkulm Thornwell’s sword. It was a beautiful gold-coloured longsword, and the blade shone in the sun. “Some scallywags might say I be a loon fer nah jus' raisin' anchor back t' Bellmoral 'n just ne'er speakin' o' this again. But nah ye, Shroom.” Aldrava concluded, “Ye understand, I needs t' see this through. Thanks fer that. Fer nah judgin' me. 'n thanks fer th' natter.”

Shroom kept its orbs firmly focused on the tower rising out of the water and drawing ever closer, showing no sign it was even listening to Aldrava. Perhaps it was feeling the same dread she was, perhaps the same sorrow, or perhaps it simply didn’t care what she had to say.

“When you’re done soliloquizing, this is as close as I’m taking you.” Cailee prevented a silence from coming over the group, “If you’re going to actually dive into Landgrave’s Folly, this would be the place to do it. But please, remember to pay me first, or I won’t be here if you return.”

“Aye, two silver pieces, was it?” Aldrava inquired. Cailee nodded, and the ex-pirate took out the requested coinage, handing it over before taking out her amphibious breathing potion and downing it. “Gods be wit' us.”

 

Aldrava would never have described herself as claustrophobic, yet, as she descended the depths towards the temple of Landgrave’s Folly, she felt as if the very darkness of the water was closing in. The water here was clean - or, at least as clean as any water around the Styes could be considered - yet it reminded her so closely of her near-death experience the previous day.

As her lungs filled with now-breathable water, Aldrava felt her breaths become heavy, she felt the hair on her neck stand up, and she felt panic begin to set in. Subconsciously, her hand tightened around Venkulm’s blade, as if it were the last thing keeping her alive.

For what seemed like an eternity and a half, she and Shroom swam down, until the temple was in clear view. Landgrave’s Temple listed toward the north, its roof and walls draped with seaweed and festooned with barnacles. The building’s facade was a mess of partially collapsed walls and ruined scaffolding, making it appear as though the site were still under construction when it sank. But it was hard to tell which parts weren’t finished and which parts were damaged by the collapse.

 

Layers of silt covered the stone floor of the main section of the temple. Tangled mounds of collapsed scaffolding lay toward the east end of this area, the west side dominated by a circular pit that stretched from wall to wall, and that throbbed with a dim, unnatural light. The light that filled the pit originated in the flicker of intricate magical sigils that covered its top edge and the upper twenty feet of its walls. Those sigils were woven into a complex tapestry of magical light, undulating and writhing like an obscene carpet of snakes. Below their pulsing glow, the pit descended into utter darkness.

It soon became apparent that Shroom and Aldrava were not alone. Aldrava felt fear overtake her body as she was who else were in the temple: Two aboleth - massive, hideous, and yet somehow graceful. The two didn’t seem to notice them at first, instead talking among themselves in an alien language.

Their location was given away when Aldrava screamed - or at least tried to. Although she could breathe under the water thanks to the potion, she couldn’t speak in these conditions, and so all that she managed to do was release a large cloud of bubbles.

The aboleth turned to face them, but did not attack. Instead, a voice echoed through Aldrava’s head, and, one could assume, Shroom’s: Cᴀʟᴍ ᴅᴏᴡɴ, It assured her, ᴡᴇ'ʀᴇ ɴᴏᴛ ʜᴇʀᴇ ᴛᴏ ʜᴜʀᴛ ʏᴏᴜ.

This voice was soon joined by a second, which added on, Wᴇ ᴀʀᴇ ᴀɢᴇɴᴛs ᴏғ ᴛʜᴇ Eɴᴅʟᴇss Nᴀᴅɪʀ, sᴇɴᴛ ʜᴇʀ ᴛᴏ ᴋɪʟʟ Sɢᴏᴛʜɢᴀʜ ᴀɴᴅ ᴅᴇᴀʟ ᴡɪᴛʜ ᴛʜᴇ ᴋʀᴀᴋᴇɴ ʜᴇ ᴄᴀʟʟᴇᴅ ʜɪs ᴍᴇssɪᴀʜ.  
Aldrava relaxed slightly, but her hand still held tightly onto the golden blade. These creatures were kin of Sgothgah - and he had proven himself quite untrustworthy.

_Well Sgothgah be dead._ The ex-pirate focused her thoughts on the aboleth, hoping they were reading her thoughts as much as projecting theirs into hers, _we scuttled him._ That’s when it struck her - _they_ actually hadn’t killed him. Aldrava herself had been dragged into the water and almost died, while Jaran… did die. But, regardless, only one being had fought Sgothgah and won - and that was Shroom.

Dᴏ ʏᴏᴜ ᴍᴇᴀɴᴛ ᴛᴏ ᴛᴇʟʟ ᴍᴇ ᴀ sɪɴɢʟᴇ sᴜʀғᴀᴄᴇ ʙᴇɪɴɢ ғᴏᴜɢʜᴛ ᴀɴᴅ ᴋɪʟʟᴇᴅ ᴏɴᴇ ᴏғ ᴜs?! The first voice resonated, Hᴏᴡ ᴄᴏᴜʟᴅ ʏᴏᴜ ᴘᴏssɪʙʟᴇ sᴛᴀɴᴅ ᴛᴏ ᴋɪʟʟ ᴏɴᴇ ᴡʜᴏ sᴛᴀɴᴅs ᴏɴ ᴘᴀʀ ᴡɪᴛʜ ᴛʜᴇ ɢᴏᴅs?!

There was a pause, Aldrava didn’t really know. She was unconscious when Shroom had faced down the aboleth. The two new aberrations seemed to gleam some answer from Shroom’s mind, though, judging by their reaction: I sᴇᴇ. Sᴏ ᴛʜᴇ ғᴏᴏʟ ᴛʀɪᴇᴅ ᴛᴏ ᴛᴀᴋᴇ ᴄᴏɴᴛʀᴏʟ ᴏғ ʏᴏᴜʀ ᴍɪɴᴅ, ᴀɴᴅ ᴅɪᴅɴ'ᴛ ʟɪᴋᴇ ᴡʜᴀᴛ ʜᴇ ғᴏᴜɴᴅ.

Shroom nodded.

Aɴᴅ ᴡʜᴀᴛ ᴅɪᴅ ʜᴇ ғɪɴᴅ? The second aboleth inquired.

Hᴀᴛʀᴇᴅ. The first aboleth commented, I ᴄᴀɴ sᴇɴsᴇ ɪᴛ, ɪᴛ's ʟɪᴋᴇ ɴᴏ ᴏᴛʜᴇʀ ʜᴀᴛʀᴇᴅ I'ᴠᴇ ᴇᴠᴇʀ ғᴇʟᴛ.

Tʜᴀᴛ's ᴀʙsᴜʀᴅ! The second aboleth was taken aback, Wʜᴀᴛ ᴄᴏᴜʟᴅ ʜᴇ ᴘᴏssɪʙʟʏ ʜᴀᴛᴇ ᴇɴᴏᴜɢʜ ᴛᴏ ᴋɪʟʟ sᴏᴍᴇᴛʜɪɴɢ ᴀs ᴘᴏᴡᴇʀғᴜʟ ᴀs ᴜs?!

There was a long pause, then a new voice entered the conversation. It was a tired voice, an emotionally dead voice, but somehow Aldrava knew immediately it was Shroom. And Shroom replied, simply: _Myself._

The aboleth fell silent for a long while, and the only sound Aldrava could hear was that of the water. Eventually, this silence was broken by the first aboleth, who said, simply enough: Lᴇᴛ ᴜs ɴᴏᴛ ᴅᴇʟᴀʏ ᴀɴʏ ʟᴏɴɢᴇʀ. Tʜᴇ ᴋʀᴀᴋᴇɴ ᴍᴜsᴛ ᴅɪᴇ.

Nᴏ, ʏᴏᴜ ғᴏᴏʟ! The second countered, Wᴇ ᴄᴀɴ ᴇɴsʟᴀᴠᴇ ɪᴛ! Tʜɪɴᴋ ᴏғ ᴛʜᴇ ᴘᴜʀᴇ ᴘᴏᴡᴇʀ ɪᴛ ᴡɪʟʟ ʙʀɪɴɢ ᴡʜᴇɴ ɪᴛ ɪs ᴛɪᴍᴇ ғᴏʀ ᴜs ᴛᴏ ᴛᴀᴋᴇ ʙᴀᴄᴋ ᴡʜᴀᴛ ɪs ʀɪɢʜᴛғᴜʟʟʏ ᴏᴜʀs!

Iᴛ ɪs ᴀʟʀᴇᴀᴅʏ ᴛᴀɪɴᴛᴇᴅ ʙʏ ᴛʜᴇ ɢᴏᴅs! The first aboleth argued, Iᴛ's ᴊᴜsᴛ ᴀs ʟɪᴋᴇʟʏ ᴛᴏ ᴊᴏɪɴ ᴛʜᴇɪʀ sɪᴅᴇ ᴀs ᴏᴜʀs!

Nᴏ ᴍᴇʀᴇ ᴍᴏʀᴛᴀʟ ᴄʀᴇᴀᴛᴜʀᴇ ᴄᴀɴ sᴛᴀɴᴅ ᴀɢᴀɪɴsᴛ ᴏᴜʀ ᴄᴏɴᴛʀᴏʟ. The second shot back, Yᴏᴜ ᴋɴᴏᴡ ᴛʜᴀᴛ.

_Shroom did._ Aldrava thought, _He scuttled yer heartie wit' his mind. Ye reckon a kraken tainted by Tharizdun be any different?_

Once again, a silence fell over the two aberrations.

_Aye. That's wha' I thought._ The ex-pirate affirmed, _Now let's kill this bastard messiah._

The two aboleth had no further arguments.

 

With the aboleth holding the kraken in their psychic grasp, Aldrava had no problem driving Venkulm Thronwell’s sword into the beast’s heart. It writed and flailed helplessly for about a minute, before the magic overwhelmed the Messiah and it breathed its last.

With the aboleth’s mission complete, the two left to head back to whatever horrible chasm they had crawled out of, and Aldrava and Shroom swam back to the surface. Never in her life had the ex-pirate been so happy to see land as when Cailee’s ship reached the port of the Styes.

_Happy t' be on land again, landlubber?_ The first true words she had spoken to Jaran echoed through the former marine’s mind. She chuckled softly to herself, and disembarked.

 

Councillor Thornwell was happy to see the two return, their mission completed and the Styes no longer facing annihilation at the hands of dark forces. 

“I’ve spoken with Councillor Rashlen and Councillor Sliris.” She informed the two, “We’ve decided not to release any information about this to the public. So far as they are to be aware, Dory used dark magic to twist Mr. Loveage’s mind to perform murders. This chapter of history ended with Loveage executed and Dory behind bars.”

Aldrava nodded. She could understand the idea of not unnecessarily troubling the minds of the citizens of the Styes. They had enough on their plates as it was, after all.

 

Two hours later, Aldrava and Shroom found themselves in a familiar apartment, once more eating stale bread and drinking cheap wine. They weren’t alone, though, Refrum was back at his home, listening intently as they explained the true story of what had transpired the last two days.

“The Lantern Ghost Murders! The work of an aboleth!” Refrum enthused, “I never would have guessed! I’m glad you decided to investigate! I- no, we, the people of the Styes as a whole, we owe you a great debt! A tremendous one!”

“Aye,” Aldrava nodded, “don't mention it. 'twas naught, really.”

“Oh but it wasn’t!” Refrum entered another fit of excitement, “You saved the city! You faced off against sea monsters! And all because you decided to listen to an old man ramble!”

“I 'ave a riddle fer ye, Refrum.” The ex-marine began, trying to change the topic.

“Yes?” Refrum seemed surprised, but willing to answer, “Of course! Anything!”

“Ye can nah really stay in th' Styes anymore. Nah wit' yer only heartie gone, yer workshop trashed, 'n yer reputation as a matey o' th' Lantern Ghost Murderer. Wha' are yer plans?”

“Ah, good question! I’ve been thinking about that, and I think I’m going to, well, I’m going to move to Waterdeep! I have a friend there, a good man named Volo, he’ll no doubt take me in!”

“See, I ask 'cause I was thinkin'. A while ago, I said t’would loot a lot t' brin' me back ship... but a lot has happened. I already 'ave a ship booked t' Saltmarsh, t' see me folks, 'n I was wonderin' if ye'd like t' come along.”

“Saltmarsh?!” Refrum was stunned, “With you? The heroes of the Styes?! Why I’d be honoured! But are you sure it’s alright? I mean, this old man wouldn’t want to be a hassle!”

“Nah a hassle at all, heartie.” Aldrava assured the tinkerer, “I'd be glad t' 'ave ye along, 'n I know so would Shroom.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for taking the time to read all the way through this story! If you liked this story (or didn't like it), consider leaving a review with what you liked (or didn't) about it. It'll greatly help my future writings!


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